Bloody Murder
by Danny3.O
Summary: Gwen doesn't really know how to deal with the death/ murder of her elder brother, and so relies on a "familiar face" to help her through her depression and tough times 2 years later. She sees him as her savior, but he only sees her as an experiment. That is until, he realizes they had more in common than he thought. (Crappy description, but trust me, the story is better)
1. Chapter 1

**The arrival:**

**Awaken:**

The rain drops struck the ground with pressure. The late fall winds blew the leaves off the willow tree in our yard as I woke up.  
I lay there in bed, body sore and weak. My eyes fluttered open as I gained clear vision of my surroundings. I was in my bedroom, a place I was familiar with but yet it seemed so different. Everything appeared merely as a silhouette. I sat up and looked out my window, as I noticed the dark clouds and everything outside was blurry as it was being masked by the raindrops on the glass.

I placed my feet on the ground and attempted to stand up as I held myself on the wall. I was up and walking.  
I staggered to the door, still holding onto the wall and placed my hand on the door knob. My thoughts were knotted and my heart was racing, I had no idea what was behind that door, but judging from the way the day begun, it certainly was going to be odd. I gasped and took in some air as I turned the knob and opened the door.  
I stepped out of my room into the hallway, which was quite dim. I was still weak in the knees and not fully conscious as I made my way down the hall.  
I was walking towards the stairs until I heard soft sobs coming from my parents' room. Usually I would brush it off and continue walking but today started out strangely, so I thought I might as well get some answers from my parents.

I made my way over to the bedroom door as the sobs begun to thicken and angry mumbling was heard in the background. I hesitantly stepped closer to the door and peeped through the crack of the only to see my mother with her head in her hands as tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. I was in shock, my mother was usually a jolly person, to see her crying was odd. _Even that's an understatement._

I opened the door slightly but quickly moved aside to avoid getting spotted by my father who was in the bathroom with his hands up against the wall and his eyes burning with anger.. at least it seemed like anger, but then again, my father was a very private man. His emotions were hard to read.  
He was panting as if he had just finished arguing and had sweat on his brow. I had never seen him like this. Even though my father never showed emotion of love and sympathy towards us,he never showed anger and hatred either.  
I was scared at this point, seeing both my parents in such a horrific state. I turned around and stepped away from the door so as to not draw any attention.  
I was almost at the staircase, but was stopped by the sound of shattering glass and a blood-thirsty scream coming from my parent's room.  
I rushed back only to see my father breathing heavily with tears streaming down his face as he held himself on the wall, aside shattered mirror. My mother rushed to him and tried to calm him down. He slid his back down the wall in sadness and sat on the glass-covered floor as my mother held his hand and rested her head on his chest. They were both in tears, which I didn't want to see.  
I left the scene and walked over to my brother Link's room.

He was kind of quiet but also a really great brother, a role model at worst. He was my friend when no one was there to comfort me. I considered him a big part of my life. I thought this about my entire family.

I walked over to his room with a little strength I had in me and knocked weakly on his door...  
No answer. I knocked again.

"Link? Are you there?" I asked weakly with a shaky voice., as I tried to hold back tears from what I had just seen.

There was no response which had me worried. I opened the door and entered his room. Link usually locked his room so it was unusual for it to be open like this.  
My mind begun to flutter and wonder what was happening. I couldn't take the suspense and rushed downstairs as I held myself on the wall.

I reached the living room which was deserted. No spec of life in it. I was speechless and didn't know what to think. I felt my head throbbing and the blood rushing to the back of my skull. I needed to rest but need to find out what was going on.  
I glanced over to the door of our 'lovely family kitchen' which now appeared to be a crime scene. I tore down the yellow and black police tape as I entered the bloody kitchen.  
I couldn't believe my eyes. Our kitchen was wrecked. There was blood everywhere, even though the police tried to clean it up.  
The kitchen counter had blood smeared allover it and so did the floor. The whole scene screamed bloody murder.

My iris shrunk as I saw a chalk outline on the floor. The outline was the same size and shape as my brother. M heart stopped as I caught onto the wall of the kitchen. My eyes begun to tear up as I realized what had just taken place in the room where my family and I used to dine.  
I clasped my stomach with the hand I had free and fell to my knees. My tears fell to the floor like the rain fell outside. I felt myself getting light headed as I begun to wail. My heart had just been ripped out and the only thing I could think of was which monster did such a thing.

I felt my body dry up and lose life as I bawled my eyes out. My vision got blurry and I fell to the ground. The last thing I recall was the silhouette of my parents rushing to my aid.

"Gwen!? Can you hear me?!" My mother called as she held my head in her hands and my father knelt at my side.

My eyes shut and every sound was shut out.I was out cold and that's all I recall from _Wednesday 17th June 2012_._  
_Two years ago my brother died and to this day I don't know who did it,which monster took away my best friend.

**So, what do you think? I know it's a bit confusing and short but believe me, next chapter will hopefully be better...So tell me what you think &amp; hopefully I'll update soon..Constructive criticism is highly appreciated.**


	2. Present day

**_Gwen's_ Pov:**

I walked down the hallway as I possessed a feeling of depression. It was 2 years since the death of my brother but i still couldn't forget the horrible event. My mind wondered off as I walked over to the bathroom.  
I opened the door and stepped in to wash up. I wasn't in the mood to get into a cold wet shower at 7:00am so I simply splashed some water on my face and tried to convince myself that was enough.  
I stood there looking in the mirror as I tried to remember who I was before my brother's death. The person I saw in the mirror was a complete stranger. They were as pale as porcelain and their lips were as gray as smoke. Their eyes burned with hatred and depression. This wasn't who I wanted to be, but it was who I became.  
I tried to forget _Wednesday 17th June 2012_, but every time the thought popped into my head, I went into a panic._  
_

I made my way back over to my room but was stopped by a familiar scene. My brother's bedroom door was open just a crack, and seemed like someone was just there. I looked through the crack only to see everything was...the same.  
The room looked exactly like it did 2years ago. My brother's desk had books about chemistry and physics cluttered all over it. His _Three Days Grace_ and_ Mcr_ posters were still on his wall, even his bed remained with the same sheets.  
I hesitantly stepped into the room and felt as though I was Alice falling through the rabbit hole into wonderland. Every thing seemed so strange and out of ordinary since he was dead. I was surprised everything remained as it was, on regular circumstances, mother would turn it into an office for father. The thought of how inconsiderate my parents were at times brought me to the verge of tears, but not just yet. It was something I was used to, ever since we were little kids, I remember my mother doing whatever is needed for my father even though it involved violating our belongings or even harming me and Linc.  
The music I used to hear blasting all the way across the hallway was now merely CD's laying beside his bed. The books I used to find piled on the dining table were now stacked on his desk. The photos we took were no longer taped on the walls but now hidden in a shoe box underneath his bed. These little bits were all I needed to remember what an extraordinary person my brother was.  
I felt a tear stream down my cheek as I clasped the picture we took as children near Alcatraz, to my chest.

I knew if I continued mourning about an event which happened in 2012, I wouldn't be able to go on with my life..normally at least.  
So as I tried my best to hold back tears, I promised myself to shut out all connections to my brother and his death.

I got onto my feet as I placed the portrait on his bedside table and walked out of the room, closing the door on my way out.  
As I made my way to my bedroom to clothe myself, I stopped by my parents' bedroom door. Somewhere I despised setting foot. It brought back memories of me seeing my guardians at their weakest which I quite frankly, didn't need in my life.  
I decided to check on them to see if they were grieving over my brother as well. I knocked on the door as I pushed it open slightly.  
My father was adjusting his tie in front of the full-length mirror they had while my other was in the bathroom cleaning herself.

"Morning,"I said timidly with just my head peeping out from behind the door.

"Yes it is," My father replied as he continued to analyze his appearance in the mirror.

"Where is mum?" I asked even quieter than before.

"Shower. Breakfast is already set up downstairs," He said as he turned his head towards me.

I shut the door and walked back to my bedroom to dress myself.  
My room had this glum and dark feel hovering in it. It wasn't quite different from my brother's, posters of MCR and other bands on my wall, books on my desk and sheets which although they weren't, seemed as if they hadn't been changed in 2 years. I made my way to my wardrobe and got out My usual outfit, dark denim skinny jeans and a black top. I wasn't really the accessory kind, I merely wore ear rings and a leather strap around my wrist, considering I was quite the jaded person.

I clothed myself in the attire I selected and gathered my books as I made my way out of the room and down the staircase.  
I walked into the kitchen which by now you'd expect me to be at peace with, but I cringed every time I stepped into it. I walked over to the fridge and picked out a bottle of water and an apple. I was running late and therefor had no time for cuisine consumption. I walked out of the kitchen as I grasped my back-pack and made my way out the door to got to the horrific place similar to Alcatraz prison_ (I would know)_.

**End of chapter 2:  
So far this is where I'm at.. Thanks to Tigersfury and others who read and reviewed, means a lot to me**.  
**Please review and tell me what you think, sorry if this chapter was choppy and all but trust me, next chapter will be better and have more characters.**

**Lisa.**


	3. A new friend

**Gwen's**** P.O.V:**  
I walked down the street as the clouds begun to gather in the sky and every teenager begun gathering in a clique. Except me, of-course, I simply walked to school on my own as I listened to the sound of Gerard Way's voice in my ears and the chords of _'The ghost of you'_ by my chemical romance played on the bass.  
I wasn't the loner type but I did enjoy solitude. My only friends were Duncan and Bridgette, well, at least my best friends were Duncan and Bridgette. I had others, like Owen and Geoff. Occasionally I would talk to Noah and Izzy but he was too cynical for my liking and she was just a nut job.  
My feet met the ground in sync with the rain-drops which begun to fall. _"Rain at 6:49am? How odd,"_ I thought as I fidgeted with my bag to get out my hoodie. I stopped walking for a bit when I heard foot-steps approach me from behind. I paid no attention to this until I felt my body being struck by another from behind (not in any weird way).  
I fell onto my knees and dropped my belongings onto the concrete sidewalk. "For God's sake," I cursed under my breath as I gathered all I had dropped into my arms.  
I heard groaning behind me and then realized that someone had run into me due to my abrupt stop to shield myself from the attacking droplets of H2o falling from above.

"Jesus Christ, please do not do anything like that again unless you want to be murdered, because believe me, I'm capable of that," a voice said from behind me.  
I wasn't going to back down and whimper as someone lashed me with words.

"Well don't walk with your head up your ass, unless you wanna end up with fractured limbs" I said as I got onto my feet. I was frustrated, was this person really preparing to get into an argument at this time of day? While it's raining? On a Monday? With 'me'?  
I stood up and dusted the dirt off my_ My Chemical Romance _T-shirt as I turned towards the stranger ready to lash them with my venomous words but to my surprise, they were smirking at me, not looking at me with eyes filled with fury, but merely looking at me with their jaw dropped and a smirk plastered all over their face.

"Well you're a feisty one, aren't you?" The stranger said as they stepped closer to me.

"And you're a stalker." I replied as I flipped my hood onto my head and swung my backpack onto my shoulder.

"Well it is raining and I just love following gorgeous girls like you to school," He said as he caught up to my pace.

I felt my cheeks flush with redness and warmth as I looked down at the concrete pavement. I was confused but intrigued by the handsome stranger now walking by my side. I kept silent until I heard him say something.

"So are you gonna tell me where you're going?" He asked

"You guest it already, to school."I said with a smirk.

"So why didn't lash at me earlier when you rammed into me?" I said as I glanced at him through the corner of my eye.  
He was quite good-looking, deep brown eyes with dark circles around them and tanned skin. He was wearing a teal shirt and some of his hair fell over his left eye. He had this gap between his two front teeth which gave him this malevolent look, but I kind of liked it. He looked familiar, like a face I was everyday but blurred.

"Well, you made a witty remark and stood up to me. You've got courage, and I like that in a girl." he said as he looked over to me with a grin.

I rolled my eyes at his attempt to get my attention but actually smiled. And I actually meant it.  
"Why thank you, I usually put guys off with my sass." I said as he begun to walk faster due to the rain getting even heavier.  
He merely grinned and remained silent. I was surprised, no flirty comment? Wow, this guy was was really playing hard to get but I wasn't going to give in. I kept quiet for a while as I thought about what he had said earlier about murder. I was not that scared, but more concerned, this guy looked a bit psychotic and had a demonic voice a little. I tried my best to remain on his good side.

It was getting a little awkward now, so I spoke.

"So what school?" I said a little timidly.

"why would you automatically think I'm going to school, _Gwen_?" he replied, emphasizing my name.

My heart almost stopped. This guy was actually a stalker, how did he find out my name? I did my best and tried to remain calm as I answered him.

"You just seem youthful enough to be a student,"I said as I continued walking.

"Hmm.. Good guess. Now It's my turn." he said with an evil grin.  
"Your name is Gwendelen Caruther, you go to Quebec High, and you are... 18 years old?" He said as he glanced at me.

My eyes widened as I quickly looked up at him with a look of uncertainty. How in the world did he know all that? I remained silent for a second before he spoke again.

"And I'm guessing you're wondering how I know all this?"He said with a smirk.

" No not really, I'm actually used to psychos finding out information about me without even talking to me then stalking me at 7:00am in the morning." I said sarcastically.  
He giggled at what I had said and then spoke.

"Why do you assume I'm psychotic?" he said as he stopped walking.

I, myself, continued. I wasn't going to be late just because a stranger tried to flirt but also creep me out.

"You just look like one," I half yelled as I quickly walked to school.  
I felt warmth on my left arm, and turned around to see him holding me.

"Don't be scared doll face, I'm no stranger to you. Believe me," He said as He grinned and released my arm.

I felt myself blush again but my feelings were interrupted by an odd thought.  
Doll face? only Duncan called me that. Perhaps we really did go to the same school. I felt myself getting less tense as my mind tried to sort out all the happenings.

"So, you don't even bother to find out my name huh?"he smirked.

"Well, you don't really seem like the type to care about names," I replied.

"Alright." He said as he looked ahead with a smirk still on his face.

The rest of the walk was quiet, well, on the outside at least. In my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about this handsome stranger and his charm. I assumed we were in the same class, mostly because we looked the same age and because he probably liked the same things like me. Judging by his clothes, I'd say we were meant to be friends, He wore a teal T-shirt with dark denim jeans and a black My chemical romance hoodie. The _MCR_ logo was not very visible, but I had noticed it earlier. I felt the desire to get to know him but before I could even speak, I heard him utter something.

"Well, we're here," He said as he walked ahead of me towards our school.  
I followed behind but wasn't fast enough, and I definitely wasn't going to run after him, I'd seem desperate. We stepped inside the school, but the halls were empty. It was 7:06am and school wasn't for another 54 minutes so I made my way down the deserted hallway of hell towards my class.  
I was almost there until I heard a familiar voice yell something to me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw my morning buddy near the boy's washroom as he winked at me.

"It's Mal by the way," He said as he entered the boy's bathroom.

I was confused and perturbed. What did he mean? It wasn't until I placed my hand on the disgusting handle of Art class that I realized what he meant. My new friend's name was Mal.  
I smiled mentally and stepped inside the classroom.

**So here you go, new chapter, sorry for being gone for so long but was just a little busy. But I'm gonna be updating every other day now.  
Thank you to all readers, followers and reviewers. Feel free to continue reading, following and reviewing, It would be awesome to hear what you guys think. Thanks,**

**Lisa.**


	4. A demonic walk down memory lane

**Special thanks to all followers and favoriters.  
**

**CHAPTER 4:**

I stepped into the dull and dusty room referred to as Art class. The desks were covered in carvings of birds and quotes by famous writers like William Faulkner, Shakespeare and surprisingly Dr. Seuss . I made my way across the room and took my seat by the window. My desk was like my comfort zone. I carved my name onto as if to claim it was my property (which it was) and I had sheets of paper with my poetry and drawings stuffed into it. It was messy, but I loved it.

I placed my bag on the chair of my desk and sat down. I reached into my backpack to get out my sketchpad and stationary but to my surprise, it was no longer in place. I shuffled my eyes across the room and bestowed them on a familiar figure sitting behind me.

"Good morning doll face," the punk greeted as he scanned my backpack, tossing out my belongings.

"You again," I scolded as I snatched my bag from him.

"Oh come on hun, you can't act like you're not glad to see my face."

"I'm quite revolted actually," I said with a flirty smirk across my face.

I was actually happy that I was already beginning to be surrounded by my few friends this early. Duncan and I had broken up but still remained friends, we realized it would be better to keep our relationship that way. I needed friends around me more than I needed a relationship right now.

"So.. are you okay?" Duncan asked, now with a serious look on his face.

My happiness was now deceased and I went back to my usual irritated and depressed mood.  
"Yes! I'm fine Duncan, now please change the God-damn topic," I snapped.

"Hey, I just care about you, we might not be dating any more but I'm still your friend so I still need to care for you," he replied.

I felt bad for snapping at him, he only meant good. I remained silent and begun to flip through the pages of my sketchpad.  
The bell was then sounded and teenagers begun flooding into the room. I wasn't very irritated by these teens considering I could actually tolerate them. They weren't like the bimbos and jocks who walked through the halls, most of them were actually pretty nice. My eyes scanned the room as I examined everyone's faces and expressions. I noticed Dawn enter with her usual pixie-like face, and I also noticed Dj. He always had this warm and welcoming smile on his face.  
He glanced over at me and waved across the room. I merely shook my head and went back to sitting with my legs perched up on the chair.

I enjoyed art the most due to the freedom experienced in the room. Our teacher, Ms. Carelli, was a young artist who had just finished college and found herself this job. I didn't take much time to get to know her but I enjoyed her lessons.  
She entered the room and class begun.

I could feel guilt consuming my insides and depression taking over. I felt bad about the way I had treated my friends. Most of the times they just tried to cheer me up but being the negative and jaded person I was, I pushed them away. But not any more, I promised myself that I would change and that wasn't a promise I was going to neglect.  
I turned around only to see Mal sitting at the back of the class chatting with Duncan. My heart skipped a beat and my palms got sweaty as I stared at the two 'bad-boys' of the school.  
Surprisingly, they hadn't noticed me, or so I thought. But my thoughts were deceiving me again for I noticed mal glare at me and give me a wink as he continued the conversation with Duncan.

I felt at ease knowing my stalker was a mutual friend but felt perturbed at the thought of that friend being my ex

The lesson went on for another hour and a half until the bell rung, indicating that it was time for geography. I gathered my things and silently made my way down the hallway. The day went on pretty much the same through out and I was relieved when it came to and end. On my way home I tried to fight back tears as I recalled the massacre that took place in my family kitchen 2 years ago today.

My vision got blurry as my eyes were filled with tears. I stopped walking for a moment and sat on the sidewalk with my head in my hands and the wind biting my rosy cheeks.

I tried to slow down my breathing as I begun to have what seemed to be a panic attack and held my bag to my chest.  
My head was aching and my throat was dry. I couldn't believe how ironic it was that I felt the way I did the morning of my brother's death. I felt awful and weak. I hated myself for this. I hated how I let emotions take control like this. I bit my lip as I placed my head on my knees, hoping no one was watching me breakdown like this.  
The harsh fall winds blew strong and I remained in the fetal position at the side of the road.

I felt a warmth on my shoulder as I quickly looked up only to see Mal holding on to me. I quickly got onto my feet as I tried to escape the scene. I wasn't going to let anyone from school see me like this, let alone someone who I wanted to be friends with.

"You OK gorgeous?" he said as tried to catch a glimpse of my face.

I wiped the tears off my face and tucked my arms in the sleeves of my hoodie which I had been wearing the entire day. I ignored Mal and tried to walk away as quick as I could.

"You know I saw the whole thing," He called from behind

I was a lost cause. It was too late to walk away, so I merely gave in and slumped down onto my knees. I was a wreck.  
I remained seated on the concrete pavement as he walked up to me.  
"Please just, don't say anything" I said as I tried to avoid any conversation.

"Please, like I'm going to listen to you," He said as he sat by me.

"Huh," I huffed as i rolled my eyes.

"So you wanna tell me why you just broke down on the side of the road and went all psycho?" He said as he nudged me with his shoulder.

"Go away stalker," I said with a weak voice.

"Oh come on Gwennie, I saw you staring at me today, you can't hide that you want me," He teased with his usual flirty smirk.

"Don't flatter yourself Mal," I said with a smirk on my face as well.  
I was in the presence of someone I actually wanted to be with, there was no way I was going to depressed.

"Alright, The crazies aren't my type anyway," he said as he fixed the hair out of my face.

"I'm not crazy," I said with a stern look on my face. I wasn't going to let him insult me so easily.

"So would you like to explain the whole situation that just went down 5 minutes ago," He replied

"Were not that close yet stalker," I said with a smirk, trying to forget the whole thing.

"When can we get even closer?" he said flirtatiously as he leaned in closer to me.

"Slow down boy," I replied as I lightly smacked his cheek and leaned back against the hedges.

"Huh, I like you Caruther. You're a whole new case." He grinned as he did the same, only he leaned on his bag.

"See why I call you a stalker?" I replied

"please, don't flatter yourself doll face,Just cause we happen to live on the same street doesn't mean I stalk you." he wittily responded.

"Whatever you say," I replied with a blank look as I got my iPod and earphones out of my backpack.

"Am I that boring?" Mal said as he glanced over to the gadget in my hand.

"Sorry?" I asked with a puzzled look.

"You've resorted to music instead of talking to me?" He asked

"You say it so surprised," I replied as I untangled the earphones and plugged them into my ears.I scrolled through the songs on my iPod and came across _Cemetery drive_ by my favorite band which I won't mention (it's too obvious).

"So you're a fan too huh?" Mal said as he peeped at the song playing.

"I don't understand you," I said with a grin.

"Don't play dumb Caruther," He said as he plucked the earphones out of my ears and snatched my ipod from my frail hands.

"Excuse me, Sed Neanderthal, I'm using that," I snapped as I tried to get my iPod.

"Uh uh," he said as he waved a finger in front of me.

"What's the magic word?" He said with an evil grin.

"SCREW YOU!" I yelled a little irritated by his childish games.

"Close but not quite," He said as he shoved me away and begun scrolling through my playlist.  
I sat there in defeat as I watched his grin grown and him chuckle.

"Looks like we got ourselves a little emo here, huh?" He said as he handed me back my gadget.

"I'm not emo, you fool," I said as I pocketed the iPod.

"Judging by your choice of music, I think you are," He chuckled.

"Don't be so quick to judge Mal," I huffed as I crossed my arms.

"Really? Three Days Grace? Thirty seconds to mars? My chemical romance? **Evanescence?**" he said as he listed my favorite bands.

"Oh shut up, I'm guessing you listen to what? One direction?" I said, a little angered as I slung my backpack onto my shoulder and got onto my feet ready to leave.

"I didn't say they were bad bands," He said as he grasped my wrist and pulled me back down.

"And I actually happen to like all those bands," He grinned.

I was surprised. Well, not really, I expected a loner like him to be into the same things as me.  
"Why am I not surprised," I grinned as I sat down

"Don't get cocky Caruther," he warned.

"Why not?" I asked as I leaned in closer to his face.  
"Don't you like bad girls?" I said with a flirty smirk.

"Nice try, but leave the flirty to the masters," Mal said with a smile.

I plopped back onto the ground a little disappointed at the result of my flirtatiousness. But I was happy now, this person actually made me forget the whole reason I ended up on this sidewalk, and that was something special. He manged to cool me down when my feelings erupted and didn't judge me.I gave him a brief smile as I tucked my hair behind my ear.

_"Quit being such a softy Gwen,"_ I said to myself.

"So.. One Direction?" Mal said with a smug look on his face.

"What?" I asked

"How do you even know about those guys?" he asked as he looked at me.

"Can we please change the topic," I suggested.

"Alright," Mal silently chuckled as he rested his head against his backpack.

It was quiet and the only thing that could be heard were crickets and the vocals of Jared Leto, Gerard way, and Amy Lee coming from my earphones. We remained on the sidewalk for an hour and a half since the whole "emo" incident, which meant it was coming to 9pm now. I wasn't in a hurry to return to the house considering that when I did, it would still be me alone till around 10. Father worked till 9 but always took long routes back to the house and mother finished work at 8 but always went to the bar till midnight to drink away her sorrows of the death of her son, the failure in her marriage and the under-paying job she had.

"So where's your family?" Mal finally spoke as he rose from laying on the germ infested floor.

"Well, half of it is dead and the other half is withering away, " I replied as I lowered the volume of the music.

"Hmm.. tell me about it,it will be a good start for our relationship and a great story to tell our kids" He said as he sat up and turned to face me with a smirk.

"You really want to hear the story of my demolished family?" I asked.

"I'm sure I've heard worse,"he nodded as he gathered some pebbles and begun throwing them on the road.

"Well, my brother died two years ago today, my father is a workaholic who doesn't show emotion towards his family and my mother is a happy housewife turned alcoholic who tries to pretend her family is perfect. Oh and then there's me, the disgusting goth waste of matter who recently told her strictly catholic family that she is Baptist and is now labelled as the rebel child." I said blankly.

"Not so messed up, but sad." He said emotionless.

"You're kidding right?" i said surprised.

"No I'm not Hun, I heard all the rumors about you killing your brother or something at school," he replied.

"That rumor is still surfacing?" I asked as I felt rage boil up in my stomach.

"Don't worry gothy, I know you're innocent," he said as a psychotic grin plastered across his face.

"I don't care anymore," I said as I slumped back against the hedge and tears filled my eyes. I tried to suppress the memory but the thought that people would even think I killed the only person who I could turn to brought me to the verge of tears.

There was silence for about 3 minutes until Mal spoke.

"How did he die?" he asked

"Uhm.. he was murdered at our house. In the middle of the night." I said as I fumbled with my thumbs.

"By who?" he asked as he tried to suppress a smirk. I ignored this and answered

"Some monster, who is _"yet to be found"_," I said as I felt the depression be replaced with anger.

"Was he a nice guy," he asked

"Great guy. He taught me everything I know, and protected me all the time. He was only 18 when he died. Tragic isn't it?" I said as I felt my heart slowly crack

Mal merely nodded.

"He got involved with drugs and some juveniles a few months before he died but I never actually knew any of them. All I know is that one of them killed him," I said as my voice cracked.

Mal's eyes were then diverted to me and back to his shoes.

"Do you know which one?" he asked timidly.

"No Mal, I don't! Do you think I'd still be grieving if I knew my brother was served justice?" I snapped as Tears trickled out of my eyes.

"Sorry, just trying to bond" he replied as he brought his knees to his chest.

"Before he died, a few hours, around 11, he told me that he was sorry for all that was to happen in my life after today, that I needed to understand he only meant well. I didn't believe him, I thought it was the drugs talking, but it was real. And that night... he was gone." I said as I broke down into tears.

"I'm sorry to hear that,"Mal said with a little concern in his tone of voice.  
I felt him pull me into a hug as He cradled me in his arms. I felt safe. I pulled away and just sat there. I wasn't going to let my demons win. I had to be strong.  
I dried my eyes and gathered my things as I stood up to leave.

"Well, Goodnight," I said timidly as I walked away.

"Ya sure," I heard Mal mumble as he did the same.

I was in tears but to my surprise Mal walked away with some sort of look of satisfaction on his face. I was puzzled but tired and I needed to get home. I walked back to the house where I would reside and hope to God my parents weren't there yet.

**Here you go, a new update! I'll admit, at first I had no inspiration for this story but later on I just got in the zone. This has been one of my favorite chapters to write so please tell me what you think. I don't mean to sound desperate or anything but for God's-sake people, review! PLeeeasee! I wanna know what you guys think. Anyway, hope you liked it.  
Thanks  
**

**Lisa**


	5. The good life is all I want

**Gwen's**** POV:  
**My feet shuffled down the hard concrete pavement of our neighborhood as I felt my stomach churn and anxious thoughts filled my mind. I fiddled with my thumbs as I approached the little family home nestled ahead of me behind poorly trimmed hedges. The house itself was completely depressing to even look at. It was a dark gray house with black curtains shadowing the events which took place within it. The tiles on the roof grew moldy over the years and the lawn had over-grown grass and dandelions. I didn't really mind how it was portrayed considering it wasn't my home, it was just a house. A place where I slept and ate-that was it. I couldn't look at it the same way again. I saw it as a murder scene and an asylum- filled with depressed and insane people. Every little bit of love left within it crumbled to dust and was no more.

The air thickened and the smell of tobacco grew denser with every step I took. My father was home. Just great. Something that I dreaded. His presence made me realize that each day went by with me growing older and more depressed. But that was a path I was drifting off from, thankfully. I met someone with mutual interests and an up-lifting sense of humor, someone I felt safe to call a friend.  
I walked up to the front door and shoved it open. The house was empty. I knew my father was home considering I smelt him smoking a mile away. I wasn't filled with concern considering my parents never really nurtured me, so I merely made my way up the staircase to my room. Or as I called it, my safe zone.

My combat boots met the ground with pressure as I made my way up the wooden staircase. I jogged over to my door and got out my keys. My room was off limits, I didn't want mother going through my belongings and criticizing my wardrobe. I slid the key into the hole in the door and twisted it without hesitation as I was eager to be alone once again. I stepped into the dark room with band posters taped allover the walls and a little gray rug on the floor and felt all the anxiety and depression disappear. I was now in my own world, one filled with my own music, my own books and my own comfort. It was ecstatic.  
I placed my bag onto the floor as I took my top off and sat down on my messy but comfy bed. I needed to rest after the breakdown I had early on today. I switched on my phone and begun to scroll through my contacts list as I searched for Duncan's number. I needed to apologize for how I acted earlier. My eyes grew wide as I stumbled upon Mal's name saved in my contacts. He must have entered his number when he snatched my phone away from me. I was surprised but glad to see that I had a connection to him other than school.  
I thought back to the moment earlier when I was curled up in the fetal position and felt vulnerable, how I felt as though all was failing and I was just left there alone to crumble as well. I thought about how Mal found me there and managed to help me through it. How he actually made me smile both inside and outside. It was a remarkable moment. My trail of thought was shortened when I heard a knock at my door.

"Gwendelen," My father's voice said from behind the hard mahogany barrier.

I quickly sat up and pulled my duvet over my chest as I walked over to the door.  
"Yes," I said timidly

"We're having dinner out on the patio tonight. Be down in 5 minutes." my father said as I heard his course footsteps soften as he walked off.  
I was in no mood to sit at the table with my wooden father and drunken and depressed mother tonight. I needed to be on my own. I walked back to my bed and collapsed onto it still with a slightly happy thought in my head. The thought of a new friend to confide in.

I wasn't ready to be screeched at so I got onto my feet and put on my black tank top as I made my way down for dinner.. The evening went on as usual, my father and I sat outside waiting for my mother who arrived at home at midnight and then went straight to bed. I asked myself how so much had changed in merely 2 years. And sadly, for the worse. I went to bed at 1:37am with tears in my eyes as I tried to ignore the sound of my mother screaming at my father from across the hall. They were arguing about my mother's drinking like they always did, which I thought was just absurd. Father was no better than her, he smoked. Not continuously, but his lungs were still being deteriorated. I lay there staring at the dark ceiling as I listened to Three Days Grace's _Good life._ It was a song I really related to so I decided to use it as my therapy. Music and art were all that helped me through life. I'd include my religious state but that is a sensitive topic I'd rather no approach.

I felt the tears warm my cheek as they trickled down my soft porcelain skin. I slowly begun to feel myself give in to sleep and shut my eyelids. I thought back to the morning I found out about my brother's death and how I felt my body collapse onto the floor. I felt the exact same way, only this time I wasn't screaming at the top of my lungs.  
It felt as though all the happiness in my life was what was drained out of me as I lay there on the cold floor, flinching with each breath. It was agonizing to even think back to it all, so I shut my eyes as I heard the soothing vocals of Gerard Way as I listened to _Cemetery Drive._ I felt everything turn to a blur as I fell asleep.

**Mal's POV:  
**Satisfaction. This was all I could feel once I left to go home. I felt my adrenaline rush as I watched Caruther's little sister shed tears in front of me. I felt as though I was in control of this little girl's life considering my acts from 2 years ago brought her tumbling down like the roman empire. These malicious thoughts were all that could fill my head as I walked down the sidewalk to the home owned by Mike's parents who were now my parents. As much as they didn't want to admit it, this body was made by the cells of their repulsive DNA. I cringed at the thought of being in a body of someone so weak and pathetic but gladly, I took care of that little issue 2 years ago. Mike was gone and this body was fully mine. The waste of matter was now gone.  
My own thoughts caused me to grin to myself like a madman.

The walk home was long considering I lived further from school than Caruther. The thought of my new fragile toy brought a smirk to my face. I had no interest in this girl at first, all I needed was to see that I made her suffer, but now that I actually had a conversation with her which revealed our mutual interests I wanted more of her. She was younger by a year but looked quite decent. Looks in their family must have come cheap.  
I thought more about my new friend and our similarities but was interrupted when buzzing came from my pocket. I got out my phone but the ID was unknown. I picked up and a sobbing goth girl was on the other line.

"_Hello?"..._

**Bwahaha! Cliffy. There's just something about them that gets your blood pumping, ya know? Anyway, Thank you to all my follower, favoriters and reviewers, particularly Tigersfury and Gypsy for reviewing the last chapter. You guys motivate me to keep writing.  
Please tell me what you thought of this chapter and the story in general. Constructive criticism is always welcome.  
**

**Thanks you guys,**

**Lisa**


	6. My demons

**Mal's P.O.V:**

"_Hello_?" a shaky voice said from across the line.

"Gwen?" I asked the anonymous caller.

"_Hi_," She replied.

"Huh, I knew you'd call." I said with a flirtatious tone of voice.

"_Now's not the time for flirting Mal_," the goth girl replied with a slight hint of hostility.

"Sure. People just call each other at 00:37am with no intention of booty-call these days." I said sarcastically.

"_This isn't a booty-call you bigot_." she replied with a bit of anger.  
I could only Imagine her pale porcelain skin turning a beetroot shade with anger and embarrassment.

"So why are you calling me?" I inquired.

"_I should be asking you why you left your number in my contacts,_" she said as I heard her clear her throat with a timid tone.

"Are you crying?" I asked with concern.

"_No!_" the goth girl replied sternly.

"Have you _been_ crying?" I asked hoping to make her cave.  
I might have scarred this girl emotionally and psychologically but for some reason I felt the need to..._ help _her.

"_Would you judge me if I said yes?"_ she asked as I felt her give in.

"No promises Caruther."

_"My parents just got into a fight and I think my mom may have kicked my dad out. Life is crumbling right before my feet again, ironically, on the same date as the last time."_ she said as I heard her sigh.

"Parents are merely wastes of matter. Funny considering most of the times they **don't **matter." I said as memories of my tragic early life filled my head.

"_Do you even have parents?"_

"Not exactly"

_"Adopted child?"_

"NO." I said sternly

"_Foster kid?"_

"Somewhat. I'm forced to live among these beings who would love nothing more than to see my rotting corpse being burn in hell." I replied.

"_Is that why you're so hostile?"_

"Oh please, I've been nothing but nice to you." I replied with a smirk.

"_And I can't thank you enough."_ She said as I heard her chuckle. At that moment, I felt a smile spread across my face. Not a grin nor a smirk but a full on smile. It wasn't in my nature to be caring and loving. I was programmed to be the evil in someone- programmed to be hated by society. But yet someone I had wronged saw good in me yet even those who I tried to love( even though it hurt) despised me.

"You should be glad you have parents Gwen, even though they don't show affection, they love you. That's something I heard people tell me though in my case they were wrong."

_"What makes you think that?"_

"Believe me when I say they want me dead." I replied as I tried to control the rage.  
I felt the anger and jealousy boil in the pit of my stomach. How could they love that waste of air and yet hate me. I was part of him anyway.

Childhood was painful for me. I was locked up in Mike's head most of the time and didn't know how to escape. I felt anger and depression consume me and didn't even know why. I begun to discover how bad was actually good in my life as I begun to take control of Mike's body and discover how I was made evil and how it was what defined me. But last year when I got rid of him, my evil remained but it no longer defined me. I wasn't the evil personality anymore, I was the human. I tried to love and it didn't hurt, but what hurt was when that love was rejected.

I was known for so much evil that no one could look past it all and see the good. I was control now so I could define who I was, and I wanted a life with someone I could relate to.  
I found that person through murder. Something I tried to run away from. The evil I let go of remained and still continued to rule my life, so now when I feel the emotion of love I doubt. But around her, I feel like it's actually real, even though it's through my past I like to refer to as**_ my_ demons.**

_"How about we change the topic to something less depressing," _she suggested

"Would you prefer to talk about how much you admire me?" I teased

_" I'd rather not."_

"Well then this conversation is over,"

_"Oh come one. We can at least talk about how much you love my choice of music,"_

"That's an interesting topic," I said as I smirked.

Our conversation went on for about 2 more hours until an idea popped into my head

"Are you at home?"

_"Yes..."_ she replied with a worried tone of voice.

"Good enough," I replied as I hung up and got onto my feet to get dressed.

**Gwen's P.O.V:  
**Depression had left my mind as it was filled with happiness and anxiety. My conversation with Mal, again, managed to cheer me up. I was anxious as I heard the line go dead and the only thoughts that could fill my mind were those of disappointment, for how he hung up and ended our conversation. We had much to talk about and yet it ended so fast. I lay there in bed as I felt relieved and understood. I had been laying in my bed as i drew for about 20 minutes when I heard the sound of rocks on my window.  
I walked over to the window and saw Mal standing in my yard.

"_Ready to go?"_

**Tada, new update. Sorry if this chapter was a little boring an all but I just didn't feel that inspired but I didn't want to leave you guys without an the next one will be better.  
Thank you to all reviewers, followers and favoriters. Special thanks moonie44foreternity, Tigersfury and Gypsy for the reviews. I really appreciate it**

**Feel free to review and tell me what you thought of this chapter and the story in general.  
**

**Also, I'm going back to school next week on Monday so I might not be updating that frequently but hopefully I'll try to every Friday and Wednesday.**

**Thanks for all the support guys,  
Lisa**


	7. Elated death

_**A/N:  
Okay so I really didn't like the turn this story took, so I decided to change it up a bit. I'm really sorry to those of you who**_ _**liked how it was going, but I ran out of inspiration and was at the verge of deleting this story till I decided to change things up. It's the same plot and summary just written and expressed in different (and hopefully better) context.  
Thank you, my dear readers, for being so understanding. I love you all...  
So, enjoy...**_

**Gwen's P.O.V:****  
**I felt my heart leap as I looked down at the dark figure with a familiar face which stood amongst the trees in our yard. Mal had come all the way to my house at 2:47am just make me smile. Or at least that's what I think he's trying to do.

I saw him smile at me as he gestured his hands as if to say "come down". I was hesitant to do so. I mean who wouldn't be? It was a two story drop and the middle of the night, the slightest mistake and my parents would awaken and I would be in big trouble. One more episode of mine and it was off to Catholic school for me. I couldn't take that risk, so I merely shook my head to show my decline.  
Mal's smile now turned to a frown as he gave me a glare of frustration. I merely shrugged and gave him a sympathetic look.  
He smirked at me and stretched out his arms.

_"Come on hun,"_ He said as his smirk grew into a sadistic grin.

I shook off the thoughts of uncertainty and went for it. I quickly ran over to my bedside table and grabbed my phone and iPod. I put them in my pocket and walked over to the window.

"You better be strong Mal" I said as I hesitantly stepped out of my window and jumped down to him.  
My heart nearly burst out of my chest as I felt my body thump into his arms.

I was safe.

"Ready to go Caruther?" he asked he placed me down onto the ground.

"Where exactly?" I asked with a tone of worry.

"It's a surprise," he smirked as he grasped my wrist and pulled me closer.  
I felt my heart leap in my chest once more as I felt his ice cold hands on my wrist. I was confused. Why did I feel like this?

I saw Mal merely as a friend. Nothing more. Why did he make me feel aggravated at one moment and then flustered at another? I didn't want to feel this way. I didn't want love, not to have that precious gem ripped out from my hands by the ugly world.  
I realized how quiet it had been since he grabbed my hand and we begun walking, so I decided to speak.

"So why exactly did you come to my house at 2:00am in the morning?" I asked

"To take you on our first date,"he said as he looked ahead and lead me by the wrist like a dog on a leash.  
I didn't like to be controlled, so I pulled my hand away.

He looked at me with a look of surprise but also amusement. I smirked back and responded to his earlier statement

"Sorry Mal, you're not my type," I said as I wrapped my arms around my torso.

"You mean not yet," he said jokingly  
"And besides, this is just a friendly stroll,"

"Good..._friend_" I said emphasizing the word friend and waiting for a response.  
He looked at me from the corner of his eye and smiled.

"So I'm guessing your curious about where we're going and a little worried, huh?"

"Not really." I said casually.

"And why exactly is that?" he asked as he stopped walking and waited for me to catch up with him.

"Because I can trust you." I replied as I walked ahead of him.

"Our first encounter was me bumping into you and threatening to kill you," he half-yelled from a few feet behind.

"Who said I don't like death-threats?"I said jokingly as I slowed down for him to catch up.

"Well, I'm not surprised. Emos like you probably can't wait to die," he said with a smug look on his face.

I felt my hands for fists and my temper rising. I hated being called emo. Just because I was hurt and listened to rock people classified me as the weird loner girl or emo kid who is also a murderer.

"I'm not emo you bigot!" I snapped.

Mal looked at me with a surprised look but at the same time looked like he was trying to suppress a laugh.I felt my cheeks flush with warmth as I was a bit embarrassed for snapping like that

"Sorry," I said shyly as I looked down at my feet.

"Why be?" he asked with a giggle

"Excuse me?" I asked confused.

"You were just expressing your feelings. I mean, you were kind of being a bitch but I deserved it." He replied as he slid his hands into his pockets smoothly.

"So you're not mad?" I asked still in shock. Usually people would be offended when I barked at them but he remained calm.

"No, I know you weren't being serious. I do that kind of stuff all the time, I was just trying to get under your skin," he said with an evil grin.

I felt a bit more at ease but still a bit worried considering I was in the presence of someone who enjoyed other people's misery. I tried to shut out my paranoid thoughts as I tried to reason. _he was probably just doing it for fun. _I told myself.

"Psycho," I said with a slight smirk.

"Oh please, you know you like the crazies. You probably feel "understood" he replied with a mocking tone.

"Speak for yourself."

"Denial." he said and then kept silent for almost 5 minutes.  
Why did he do that? Talk and then just switch off? Was he teasing me or was he really just bored with the conversation? All these thoughts filled my mind until I heard his sultry voice.

"So you're a rock fan, huh?

"You realize that now?" I said with a smile.

"Do you have your phone with you now?" he asked as he turned to me.

"Uhm, yeah. Why?" I asked as I got my phone out.

"Hold on to it for now," he said as we continued walking.

The rest of the walk was quiet as we went to wherever Mal was taking me, until he spoke.

"Well, we're here." he said as we stopped walking right in front of a comic book/ music was the perfect place to hang out. Guitars hanging drum sets set up and stacks of comic books, sketch pads and canvases along with pencils and paint. It was ecstatic. It felt as if I were in my element and it wasn't that far from home.

"Well you seem shell shocked." Mal said as he shoved my arm lightly.

"Oh sorry" i apologized as I noticed my jaw had literally dropped.

"So are we going in or what?" I asked excitedly.

"Not today sweety" Mal said as we walked away from the heavenly building.

"WHAT?" i asked filled with confusion.

"I was just showing you the place where we will be hanging out at now.

"You little_" I was cut short when Mal decided to run off.

"Bye" he yelled as he walked off.

"I'll get you," I shouted to him

"I'd love to see you try."

I smiled to myself. Finally, a friend.

***Monday morning***

**Gwen's POV:  
**Walking to school every morning at 7:00am wasn't something any teenager would enjoy. Probably because of the finger-nipping cold I felt each second as I sauntered down the street as well as the sound of car horns honking at you every time you walk a liiitttle too close to the road, but worst of all,- the thing I really despised about my daily strolls to hell- was the cliques of mindless zombies who I had to accompany in a way.  
I could stand bone-crunching weather conditions and aggravated drivers high on caffeine, but the superficiality of my classmates made me tick- and I was quite the emotionless person.

I walked past familiar faces but wasn't phased by the sounds of the voices as I was- as some would say- in a trance.  
In a state whereby everything around me seemed to merely slip past my glance. Sound was in-efficacious, and the images plastered on my eyes seemed so plastic that they would melt at the touch a flame. Everything around me seemed to have no effect for I was already grimaced with the emotion of _confusion.  
_Not to claim that I felt, anxious and uneasy, but to say the least, I felt overcome with a puddle of un-explainable feelings-and if to say- emotion.  
Nothing really seemed to have effect on me at all. I merely kept to my thoughts and saw the world as I had always seen it-grey. Emotionless and blank. But not as a result of depression or sorrow, but as a result of what I was feeling,-as mention before,- confusion.

This little gift made its way into my life once more as it did through horrible events in my childhood, but this time it sprout from what I least expected- a new friendship. One unlike any other for this one was not built on pity or sorrow. Neither was it built on false pretense that I was to get better, it was built on what I felt was real and truthful- all I needed to feel really. It was built on factual expression that my past was at worst, the death of me. My new friend knew the truth about it, but did not hold me accountable to feel the emotion of self-pity- oh no,- he simply made me accept it. Right infront of him. The day I broke-down on the sidewalk, I let go of those emotions I had bottled-up inside that I tried to pretend could be magically transformed into something worth examining. I let go of that self pity and those thoughts that tried to make me believe my brother's death defined my life as hell and awful. I let go. And seeing as those were the only emotions I felt within me for the past years, I was now completely **dead.** Not in the sense that sadness and years of depression had killed me -despite the fact that emotionally they did- it simply because all I ever felt- it being sadness- was now gone. I never felt happiness, thus leaving me with nothing within.  
But yet I knew I was here. here walking to school on a Monday morning, besides the mindless teenagers, and yet I felt... at peace. No longer sad. No longer exhausted. Just...empty. But in a good way, in way that I could confirm I would live...actually live. In a way, I would be resurrected and hopefully, live a new life. One I actually...well, **lived.** And this made my heart and cold dark soul, grow warm, and lift to happiness. Low key happiness, but still, ranked level 7 out of 10.

I soon realized that the time I spent thinking to myself was soon caught up with as I came to my destination- school.  
Or in terms every teenager would agree with,- hell.  
With a heavy heart and a scent of anxiety, I stepped through the door, into the hormone/fear and insecurity-scented building which I was to be leaving in 4 days. Thankfully, because of graduation.  
The day I waited for throughout many years of bullying and anxiety, and thought would never see the light of day, but yet it managed to worm its way into my life.  
It was going to be a simple day, ya know, robes, diplomas, stuff like that, but I was still anxious because of what was the next day- a party.  
More specifically a party held by dear ol' Duncan to celebrate finishing 12 years of constant social and psychological torture, which I was invited to, and was going to attend.  
But currently, I wasn't anxious from the indecision of what to wear or what time to arrive, but ore so by the thought and question of who would attend.

I was soon to find out as my clunky combat boots walked towards the art room where my green-haired juvenile was seated...

**OK, so I know I've been AWOL and stuff but I'm doing finals in a month so I've been reaaaaal busy. But now I'm back.  
As mentioned before, I apologize for deleting the other chapters, I just wasn't happy with them AT ALL, but I am currently re-writing all of them so don't worry. I promise to update at least every weekend or every two weeks so I don't leave my lovelies hangin'.**

**Thanks for reading. Please review, follow and favorite and just have a good week every one.**

**PS: Special thanks to Malwenforever and others who kept pushing me to write.  
Thank you.**


	8. The pain appears once in a while

**Gwen's POV:  
**A wandering goth girl with a look of boredom was probably what I was seen as by other people's wandering eyes as my feet shuffled and my hands hung freely but yet moved in a smooth motion whilst I approached our dull and faded brown door which ironically, held behind it a brightly fitted room full of creativity and wonders. A place plastered with paint spots and trickles of a dull red and grey all over the wall.  
This appealing room was what we referred to as our art room. Not much more than that. Not viewed as a heaven or spectacular. But maybe, by some, seen as a getaway. A place to come and just get lost in their thoughts, if not, somewhere to just...think.  
Think and draw. Which surprisingly is what I found Duncan hard at work doing. Sitting. Drawing. and thinking. All being reflected by a look of focus on his stubbly face.

I approached him ready to speak but felt my laziness take action, causing me to walk past his figure and take a seat, which soon resulted into me grabbing a sketch pad and a pencil and beginning to trace the light and barely visible outline of my next- if to say- masterpiece.

Silence fell over the room as Duncan and I remained hard at work on our individual drawings. This caused me to tense up and feel uneasy as I questioned why he had not acknowledged my presence. But that thought soon faded and into my darkened mind, snuck a cheery new thought. One I hadn't really dug out until this moment as I played with the tip of my paint-coated brush. The thought of my new friend Mal.  
Soon this thought turned into a whole paragraph of what I believe was a period of remembrance.  
Mind filled with query and excitement, I sat there still. Still unable to really jump around and rejoice but yet I still felt that I was already thinking about Mal...that was until Mr. silence decided I was worth speaking to and cleared his throat, letting out a groan and then a whole statement.

"Morning Gorgeous," he smiled.

"Yes it is, duncan. So to make your greeting clear, can you please add an adjective," I corrected him still thinking about Mal.

"You're such a prick, doll face," the delinquent smiled as he propped himself up on the desk before him, still smirking.

"Is that really supposed to have any effect on me?" I asked, amused.

"Not to my knowing, no" Duncan replied as he fiddled with the paint-brush tips.

I caressed the slick canvas on which I had just finished drawing and felt myself fall back to where I felt I was this morning.  
Pondering.  
My mind was now sky clear and was able to hold masses of knowledge and information which I indeed stored, but yet I felt that now, I had no emotion. And without emotion, I felt dead. This deadness leaving me exposed to creeping and darkening feeling of depression which I idiotically- welcomed.

And so miraculously, my mood was swapped back to my childishly imbalanced emotional state. Leaving Duncan and I in a thick smog of awkward silence I was soon to break.  
Because staying here was only going to make me dread my state of breathing even more- quite surprisingly.

"So, I'm just gonna leave you now," I timidly spoke but yet so confidently as I got up and made for the door, leaving Duncan to whatever mischief he was brooding.

"Alright hun, see you on Saturday," he smiled but yet still kept his glance far from mine and focused on the paint-brush in his hands.

"No promises, but I'll try my best," I spoke to which he nodded.

I glanced back, glanced forward, and left the room to go to the library with the heavy feeling of emptiness on my shoulders.

**Mal's**** POV:****  
**I watched as every meaningless being walked through the halls of our school, stopping by one another to give a hug or kiss on the cheek, seeing as in four days, we were to all go our separate ways. Mine, hopefully being to hell with Gwen as my succubus, but seeing as she was to innocent, I was urged to leave my petty fantasies locked up in my head.

No one around me really seemed to care that I was in their midst, seeing as they were all too busy signing year books to catch a glimpse of my kill-glare, but hey, I was okay with this. Not only because I didn't give a damn about all the peons brushing shoulders with me (_greasy, _shoulders if I may add) but because my focus was on my current feeling- that of anger.

After spending some time with gwen after wanting to destroy her, I realized that my priorities were all jumbled up. Jumbled up much like Owen's intestines after lunch, and this caused me anger. Anger, hatred and confusion.  
As I walked the odored halls of my school, I tried to un-jumble what was left of my sanity because I was convinced I was loosing it.  
I had become less active of late and yet, still filled with energy. I stopped speaking to others and stopped reasoning with myself because my mind had been preoccupied by my thoughts of Gwen and my revenge. And these thoughts soon spun themselves into thoughts of affection and change which I obviously wasn't going to accept. I was to reject them because they would alter all I had planned for my future. Both the future I had built in my head whereby all outstanding debts would be paid and I would have full accomplishment, and the future I had realistically structured to prevent me from straying. And now I was filled with anger towards Gwen. Hateful, Spiteful anger. Which I unfortunately wasn't allowed to express because it would harm our relationship before it required so.

Turning my heel lazily, I made a swift turn and found myself in the hallway by the library. The anger and hate boiling in my chest soon awakened my malevolence and now I felt the urge to hurt and destroy, but was unable to. I wanted to go and scream till my lungs bled.I wanted to just disappear for a while, and now this psychological torment was met with physical pain, causing me to hunch over as I clasped my chest.

My heart was now hazily beating and felt as though it would give in, as I tried my best to swallow the sudden pain, but it was no use. The pain wretched its way through my body in many small vibrations making me shudder and it was no surprise. The pain was always there buried deep inside my stone soul, being born as a result of my evil nature. And it took its crap physical form as heart palpitations.

I was pretty used to the pain. When Mike would experience them, I would still feel slight discomfort and take pleasure in his suffering, but loathed my own.  
It had now been around 3 years since my last "attack" whereby it would reach the state when I would vomit and convulse. Seizure at times, but very rarely.  
Doctors said I had some sort of defect with my nervous system since I was younger, as a result of all the flips and cartwheels by mike (otherwise know as svetlana) when he'd fail and fall flat. Of course that was their theory, where as mine was completely different. I believed it sprout from Mike's came as a result of always worrying about other people seeing your "crazy side". The side which you always tried to hide because he was different. The side which was made up of Manitoba, Chester, Vito, Svetlana and I.

I believed little Mikey's attempts to hide us crazies, made him anxious and worried causing his little heart to break down. Simply as his fear of showing his difference. Fear of **admitting ** that he was crazy.  
I mean, that was just my theory. But it probably wasn't wrong, whose brain wouldn't short circuit after 7 years of pretense and self denial?  
I know mine would.

I struggled to put on a show of strength and health, but as I always did when the pain would attack, I failed. I feel to my knees and tried to control my breathing as all the hassle and bustle of the school carried on. Leaving me to be showered by side-stitches and frequent shudders of pain until finally, it stopped.  
The pain had left my body and I was now able to stand up, so obviously, I did.I got up and continued to the library like nothing happened until finally I stood before the hag-of-a-librarian sat before me with her pasty transparent complexion and dusty grey hair similar to the cobwebs on the shelves.  
But being the _"gentleman I so dearly am",_I spared the old bat the intervention and went in as casually as possible in attempt to find a secluded and dark corner for my "secluded and dark soul" to reside.  
And to my luck, Beth and her repulsiveness soon left me a comfortable little seat in back.

"You shouldn't have four eyes," I smirked as she walked away with a look of disgust.  
But hey, I was more than glad to not have to sit with her.

I placed my ragged rug-sack on the chair besides me and pulled out my notebook as well as a textbook as I tried to catch up with skipped and undone history notes. And trust me, it was a lot of work.  
So I sat there with my face buried in a book for about 30 minutes till thick footsteps found their way to the shelves at my side only for me to catch a glimpse of teal hair being swooped behind a pale and pierced ear, giving me the impression of who I was now noticeably staring at.

I was soon overcome with a mental debate on whether I should go and say hello to my stalk-ie or whether I should stay put and focus on my work, but seeing as I was to leave this hell hole in four days, my focus on education wasn't really that high., and soon I stood up and shuffled towards the mahogany shelf packed with books on literature trying my best to not scare away my prey.

"Morning gorgeous," I greeted with a smirk as Gwen held a cluster of books in her hands and her tucked streaks soon fell in front of her eyes.

"Hey, haven't spoken in a while, have we?" She smirked back, struggling to hold her loot in her girly and frail arms.

"Not that I remember. But that isn't really a bad thing," I teased as I glanced at the books she held ever so dearly and yet pathetically weakly. But then again, they were around seven books, which I myself would struggle to hold up-not as bad- but still.

"Aren't you going to help me with these?" She asked me with a devilishly sexy look as she supported the books on her now extended out knee.

"I think you got it gothy," I replied with my usual smirk.

"Hmm...I think I phrased that wrong. I wasn't really giving you a choice," she explained stretching out her arms.  
"Now here, take them," she smiled causing me to comply as I took half and continued to walk.

I felt myself try to contain my anger from earlier today and succeeded as we casually strolled back to the dark corner where we proceeded to sit.

I wasn't angry at Gwen more so, vengeful towards her, and so I didn't really feel I was obligated to "destroying her". I simply felt that I needed to somehow affect her negatively.  
My plan was simple- try to bring her life to a point of blankness. To a point where she had nothing left to feel. But I felt it was already done, she looked so blank. Not depressed as she did when we first met, but now she looked like she really had nothing left inside.I wanted to take away her feeling in a sense, but you can't really kill a corpse, can you?  
So now,I had to bring her to life, only to kill her, and I only hoped she'd give me the chance. I wanted to ask to help and so I did. In a such a sly and malevolent manner that she couldn't even tell. And this filled me with joy as the plan scheme played out in my mind and I looked at my dark, dull friend who was now busy reading., but soon would be crying and maybe even _dead._

**HHHHHUUHHHH?! What's next? I'm honestly not sure either cause I"m still writing it but we'll get there.  
SO anyway, hope you guys liked this chapter.  
Sorry for the delay, my net has been down but I'll try my best to update every week, but if I don't please forgive me.  
**

**Thank you lovelies so much for reading and reviewing and favouriting and following, it means a lot and I just want to say thank you.**

**Feel free to review and tell me what you thought of this chapter and the story in general and have a great week loves.  
Thanks,  
Li.**


	9. Nicotine

**Mal's POV:  
**I felt the soreness and aching from earlier on slowly return and cause me to slightly flinch as Gwen and I sat in the comfortingly dark and gloomy library filled with dusty book covers and perfumes that smelled as if they were used on people who were to be buried. The aura I felt myself be set in was eccentric but in a homely matter- and I wasn't going to deny comfort seeing as of the moment my palpitations and sprained intercostal muscle crippled me on spot.

I sat there observing Gwen as her nipped and delicate fingers flipped through the book pages as slick as water and her teal streaks fell in front of her eyeliner coated eyes.  
She seemed so average and regular and yet, I felt that there was something unique in her. Unique in the sense that she seemed to have a very bleak view of the world, almost as if she knew what was to happen and wasn't afraid- and this made me envy her.  
I wished to know what the world held for me,- what I would make of myself and whether I would stray from what I believed I lived for onto something purposeless,- this thought perturbed me at worst.  
I was always worried and confused about who- or if I may say- _what_ I was. I knew I had slight good in me and at the same time bad- much as everyone did,- but still felt myself wonder who I was.  
Character or being? Creature or creator? Personality,..or _human?_

Lucifer was an angel, nut chose the dark path, so maybe i was to be as he was- understand I have good, but reject it. Choose Malevolence over benevolence.  
But then I was only going to be hated and despised, -not that I cared- but I was going to be marooned in society- which I didn't want.

I wanted to be good, but sadly, the nature I believed I was created with, disagreed with that notion.  
I grew up undermining myself and believing I was simply a side effect of madness much like the others, but when Mike passed, a realization of my true purpose was to be discovered.  
Purpose being my self definition,- who I believed I was, because once someone knows who they are, decisions flow easy as oil, but in my case, I was now stuck in a tar of thought which consisted of self hate, depression, anger, revenge and confusion, but yet,- no acceptance.  
And if I didn't accept it, then wouldn't that mean that my malevolent perception was false?  
Probably, and so I had to discover who I was- which is why _she_ was here.

We were the same her and I.  
Filled with pain and cold hurt, and yet still living life as pale silhouettes. Not living as thick prints.  
Gwen had her pain unravel before me and made me realize that loneliness and pain wasn't a one person boat- more so an ark with variety.

In a way, Gwen was bait. I was going to throw the steak into the den through many ways, only to see which the predator would act on.  
Smart, as usual, but sketchy and very sensitive. One little mistake and the steak could snap due to realization of my scheme and I could end up in the den.  
And so my plan was to flow safe and still.

**Gwen's** POV:  
The air around me seemed to grow thick as Mal's deep eyes grazed over, flickering at me from time to time and yet, still seeming so distant and deep in thought.  
I thought of shoving his elbow of the desk as a way of telling him to cut the crap, but decided it's best if we just sit there and stare it each other for another hour or two and then go our separate ways.  
_Yeah, reaaaaalll smooth._

Not much to say to him as my mind was still brewing theories and ideas of my psychological resurrection, but my lips faintly gave out a gasp of air causing him to creek his neck towards me and pull his smug face, as per usual.  
Distant, and yet so present...

"Miss my voice, huh sweetheart?"Mal asked as he tapped a pencil tip on the dull brown furniture.

"Mmm,...yup I missed it soooo much," I mumble sarcastically as I mindlessly fumbled with the sleeves of my over-sized hoodie and curled the tips on my hands.

"Don't seem like it," He aired out,glancing at me looking past him into the school yard as I weakly attempted to stay _alive._

I was in no mood to really talk to anyone and yet I just wanted to be in the presence of someone being Mal.  
It was then that I realized the true definition of what I could refer to as **_loneliness._**  
Being around so many people- thousands at times- and realizing that you never have, and never will fit in.  
No matter where you are. Whether with parents or family or school or "friends", a lonely person simply sits there and thinks "I'm on my own".  
I felt this moment at most times in my life and this brought about my depression. Brought about the depression and brought out the **blades.**  
Tons of them.  
Caused me to sit in my room alone with bandages and steal sheets in my hands simply fiddling with them.  
This obviously wasn't done because it was part of the routine. It wasn't like I would get the blades, sit on the floor, ponder about life and death and then _ slit slit slit,_ but I was hesitant to drag it across my body due to my confusion.

Not knowing why I was there in that corner with blankets of silver- not knowing if I were really upset about my loneliness and seeing it as a curse,or just neglecting what I enjoyed...  
Which turned the tables for me to realize I felt two emotions- _Loneliness and Solitude._

And at moments like these- moments of realization- I was fucking pissed.  
Pissed at my confused mind that caused me to hate what I loved. It was like **nicotin****e.  
**You know that feeling? The feeling of getting a rush from something society sees as strange and different, and so you grow up hating yourself for being that way..?  
You hate yourself for enjoying what society is basically screaming at you that "FUCKING STOP!".  
But you feel that this is a part of you and you see your family members merely staring at you and thinking you're fucking weird. Like you're some kind of creepy alien. Red rose among the white daisies. Thorny and covered in a coat of something that is different from those around you.

You know that there are others like you out there but your eyes are flooded by these pure white petals that you forget that being coated in red is okay. You begin to think that being covered in plaster of different nature will make you die. And so hate your nature.  
You're that red rose that hates its thorns and petals because even though there's **NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU**, society screws you up and basically throws these blades at you.  
And so this loneliness -which is defined as being alone even in a flood of people- is a result of my self neglect of my solitary nature. And I fucking **hate it.**

It made me depressed and empty only to see everyone else around me happy with their flaws- well, not everyone, but the person in my presence was the perfect example.  
Heartless, crude, blankly honest, and solitary, but okay with it. And I guess that's why I needed Mal in my life- to teach me to accept my red coating and thorns, but I doubt that was going to happen.  
I couldn't accept myself, how could anyone else.

And after around 5 minutes of my mood changing and utter silence, Mal spoke again, bringing me back to reality.

"So you're ignoring me now?" he decided to ask as he packed his books up and get up to leave the now abandoned library, as it was now almost 3-meaning school was over.

"I have other things on my mind," I replied, with a little bitterness as I stood up and swung my bag over my shoulder, stepping in the direction of the exit.

"Me not being one of them?" he asked amused as he dug his hands into his skinny's pockets and focused his gaze on the ceiling.

"Not now Mal," I huffed as we walked beside each other and my anger now morphed into frustration.

"Very well," he stated in defeat as he inched closer and continued to pester me trying to get me to "vent" to him.

"So are we still going to meet up at the music store this evening? Or are you too upset to do anything creative and productive?"he chuckled as he stated the latter.

"Don't think so..."

"Why not?"he asked stopping in his tracks.

"Because I don't want to, now please stop following me," I spoke as I made a turn round the corner.

"I'm your stalker beautiful, forget that already?" he chuckled darkly as he continued to follow me.I tried my best to remain calm as I dragged my haggered body through the hallways, but failed and snapped at Mal.

"Mal, I know I make your day a million times better seeing as you have no friends AT ALL, but please piss off for now,"I spat.I didn't feel that I owed Mal a conversation and my depression caused me to become bitter towards everyone around me. And so now I was left with only anger and depression, but still I felt empty.  
Like those times when you just want to scream and cry but you're too broken and empty to even gasp for air.

Mal's reaction to what I had said seemed very vague as he merely narrowed his eyes, smirked, and left me to continue home, but I had now made the decision to steer clear of him for the rest of this week until graduation to avoid any conflict.  
He and I weren't even close friends and so I didn't feel guilty for stating the truth. As mentioned earlier, my chemical imbalance I was born with (And the bipolar disorder God ever so granted me) caused me to be very introverted and solitary, and in the midst of someone who had their life so easily planned out, I become even more aggitated.

I walked down the street leading to my house as empty as a grave, trying my best to ignore the masses of children around me and their constant bickering as I rushed home ready to take my meds.  
They were with me in my backpack but taking them in front of everyone from school would spark rumors of me being a psycho druggie, and I didn't want that.  
So I clasped my hoodie over my head as tight as possible and bit my lip trying to not break skin, as I jitterily walked with heavy strides to my shattered home where my mother was probably sat filing divorce papers and making phone calls to my aunts.

It was only a few days after my father had left as (or had been kicked out) but my mother felt that she needed to legally free herself from him. Lawyers and everything.  
And so I tried my best to stay away from her. She was a mess.  
Drank coffe almost every two hours and smoked about 10 packs of smokes each day. She had hit rock bottom.  
Not only was she a mental case, but she had to deal with a psychotic unstable daughter such as myself. Struggled to force me to go to the therapist and to swallow the multicolored tablets to temporarily cure my craziness...we were both a mess.

My boots begun to wear-out as I hurriedly ground them against concrete in attempt to go and hibernate in my bedroom and swallow medicine as I felt my lungs give out.  
It was late october and the weather was horrid, in terms of affecting my psychological state and climatically, which caused me to take a break from my little journey to sneak some air into my trachea and get out a scarf from my backpack.  
I briefly removed the dirty cloth case from my back and placed it on the pavement as I searched for some sort of cloth to keep me from dying of bronchitis when I saw the orange bottle holding my temporary numb-ers.  
With a heavy heart, I shut my eyes and picked them out of my backpack preparing to down two pills as I hid myself behind a nearby tree.

**Yes I know I'm late and that this chapter was mostly some choppy crap and I apologize but I'm working on the next chappy and it'll be up sooner than you think ;)  
Once again, sorry it was choppy and short, I tried my best but failed, but I'll make it up to you guys. Promise!**

**Feel free to review, favorite, or follow.  
Thanks,...  
Li.**


	10. Mother

**Gwen's POV:  
**The wind coldly bit at my cheeks as I scurried over to a tanned-leafed fall tree to pop the multicolored drugs into my mouth. I'd been on the verge of swallowing more than 2 pills and just OD-ing at certain points in my life, but luckily, I had managed to pull myself out of those.  
But at this moment, I felt blood rush through my veins as I clasped the orange casing in my cold hands and fiddled with the lid trying praying that it would pop open fast for me to just get one of those suckers, into my mouth.  
I wasn't in the state of wanting to end my life, because that routine got old. I just wanted something to numb down the anxiety and moodiness brewing in my mind. I just wanted to swallow one tablet and go on with my life. But knowing how that would go, I was gonna be sorely disappointed.

Nothing could really numb the anxiety and self hate, and depression, and destructive thoughts and anger, and just disappointment my life was filled with. It was always there.  
My life wasn't awful and painful to live through physically, but emotionally- it left me drained.  
My depression and anxiety-which started from a very young age (oldest being 8)- left every little thing in my life magnified. It made everything thing turn black and then in that very dim moment, it spark a light of hate or panic.  
Everything around me seemed to really get to me, and until I was diagnosed with Bipolar (age 13, I think), my life was a living hell. though others saw my life as average and not that bad, I,sadly, saw it as awful. Grades dropped, happiness dropped, my health dropped and my brother died.  
I saw it all as a way of telling me what I knew as life was coming to an end. It was all I knew from living with depression- where you seem to feel sad for no reason (at times)- and it really seemed to affect me.  
But now, I was going to finish High-school. No more bullying and stress, and hopefully, I would find a way to swallow my medication without fear of everyone calling me crazy.

I quickly popped the medication into my mouth and swallowed it with some water as I zipped up my backpack and continued my walk home.  
_Maybe I'll even go draw in the park today..._  
-

I was slightly late, but I didn't really care- as usual. Every time I took my meds, I would fall into a care-free state and would just wander around the neighborhood- if my mother let me.  
It was now 7:09pm and I had spent the past four sketching my thoughts out on an almost-used up sketchpad in the shade of bronze-leafed willow out in the local park.  
I admit, I was a good artist, but not willing to flaunt my talent to whoever passed me by unless of course, they asked to see it. Then flaunt I will my friend, then flaunt I will...But today, as suspicious eyes grazed over me perched in my leather jacket and ripped jeans, I ignored them. I was doing what I always did- drew and listened to music. Since I was little, my mother and I would splay out chart-sized manilla paper and crayons and just go crazy with out imagination, but when puberty hit and I became a little angsty bitch, we drifted apart.  
That and the fact that after 4 years of homeschooling, I had to go back to public school and so our time together was cut short. But I still held onto those little fragments of memories.  
Glazing canvases with paint and gluing rice grains onto cards in spirals and patterns. It all made my childhood worth living. And luckily, I could always see that in the painting hung in our now ugly and abandoned living room that was glazed in scarlet and purple with navy blues and light pinks, depicting one of my mother's old pieces...  
She was an artist like me back in high-school. Drew a lot and also majored in graphic arts and literature in college as she tried to pursue her dream. I mean, she was held back when she married my father, a consultant who was in the army while he was studying economics and banking- thus meeting my mother- seeing as they had me and my brother and then my mom had to stay home and take care of us and decided to become a housewife.  
All that was just thrust right into my face whenever I sat legs open on our couch and flipped through channels on TV.  
And so I in a way, mimicked my mother because I aspired so hard, to be like her. She was my role model. My hero.  
A young, independent woman who lives her passions and is fearless enough to hang a massive canvas (and not to mention paint murals on her children's bedroom walls). I wanted _to be her so bad._  
But now she was a broken woman. No longer strong but weak. Not as if she couldn't do anything on her own, but she just didn't want to. She relied on a pack of smokes and alcohol to get her through the days, all because of all the events in her life.  
Much like myself, my mother was bullied in high-school for being different. She wasn't a skinny blonde beauty with blue eyes and gorgeous perfect features, but instead a dark haired, brown eyed "weirdo" who still kicked ass and didn't even care if people didn't like her. She just lived her life. Though snarky comments would offend her at times, what really hurt her was how she was used in high-school. Had her heart broken and kind of became so insecure that now whatever people said about her love life and emotional state would affect her negatively. She just built up walls around her, until college when she met my dad.  
The fell in love and had me and my brother. But the direction my dad's relationship with my brother took caused my mum to break down. Alcohol and staying out till late were the main factors. What she used to hide her pain. But I could see past it. We all could. And so she quit. But replaced it with inhaling nicotine through a tiny portable cylinder she tucked between her fingers and brought to her lips. She felt good at the moment and we thought it ended, but...let me put it this way, _you see my mum lighting up a cigarette, you know something's wrong.  
_And this caused me to be upset with my mother. The way she transformed into something like this. Someone drowning her sorrows in smoke. Heck, she was no better than an alcoholic.  
Her ways disgusted me, and she disgusted me. But I couldn't blame her because it wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault she became so fucked up much as it's not anyone's fault that they're depressed, or bipolar or anxious or blind or crippled or even point blank **suicidal.** No one hopes for these things, but we all turn back to the main cause of these- nature.  
The bitch makes us this way and we live lives hating ourselves and struggling. People don't want pity from others or themselves, but yet everyone else feels sorry for them. People don't want to be segregated, but they are.  
We're all the way we are because these are our lives. And apparently, **_life fucking_ sucks.**

I chucked my boots at the wall as I shuffled for my house keys in my backpack, standing at my front door.  
Everything was silent and the only sound to be heard was the cooking channel muffled behind the walls of our now seemingly-happier-looking house.  
I slipped the keys into the hole and successfully opened the door, revealing my mother wiping the cabinets in the kitchen as the divorce papers were carefully packed on the counter top and the house seemed...brighter.  
My mother was now seemingly a part of the house as a smile curled on her red lips as she glanced at me, but remained silent.  
I walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the dining table as my brown-bobbed haired mother who was dressed in a black pair of jeans and grey sweater that slimmed her down passed me a glass into which I poured some orange juice, and sipped.

"How was school?" My mother asked, blankly as she rinsed the cloth in the kitchen sink and shook her hands in attempt to dry them.

"The usual. Nothing big really,"I answered as I slurped the remaining juice at the bottom of the glass.

"So is that why you're home so late?"She spoke as she reached into her pocket and got out her lighter, clicking at the tip of the cigarette in her hands and bringing it to her lips.  
_This bitch..._

"No. I was in the park, drawing and trying to buy some time away from home, as usual," I stated tapping on the glass in my hands, causing my mother to sarcastically let out a breath laugh and shake her head.

"So basically staying away from me? Your mother?"she scoffed as she turned around, to face me and removed the cylinder from her lips.

"You're not really a mother-figure are you?" I asked cocking an eyebrow to which she smiled evilly.

"I'm guessing your not in a good mood?"She laughed sourly,"Boy trouble?"She spoke as she placed it back in her probably felt humiliated knowing I just witnessed her indirectly admit she used this as an escape, as she hesitantly returned it to her mouth as her smug expression dropped slightly.

"No, just the fact that my mother is drowning her sadness and problems in nicotine as she signs divorce papers between her and my father," I blankly stated causing her to narrow her eyes at me and take out the cigarette, putting it out and chucking it into a nearby ash tray.

"Why don't you have some respect for the person who brought you into this world, huh Gwen?"She half yelled with a disgusted look on her face as she approached air was now tense, but I truly loved my mother and she loved me. She'd never hurt me and I obviously would never touch a hair on her pretty head (I'd fight off anyone who'd even dare to try do that), I just needed a way to make her stop smoking.

**"Because, you don't even have any respect for yourself. You pretend you're fine and happy after everything that has happened to us but you and I both know damn well, mom, you're not!"** I spoke raising my voice and it nearly cracking as tears brimmed my eyes.**"I cal bullshit****, and you know it's true. Lies and lies that you're okay when CLEARLY, you're dying inside.****"** I spat as salty water flowed down my cheeks and I stood from my seat and left the room.

**"And so you think you can just disrespect me, throw a fit and then leave?" **she half screamed as she glared at me.  
**"We all have problems and some of us deal with them differently. At least this isn't as harmful as your little razor-play,"**she spat causing me to flinch and turn to face her.  
I was filled with fury now. MY mother knew I was trying my best to mask my depression and get over it and she never brought it up. It was taboo. But at this moment, as she brought up, my self harming-which I even quit a year ago seeing as I realized how dumb it was- I felt the need to hurl all my feelings at her, seeing as she was at the time-if not most- the reason for my self harming.  
I believed that she already had burden enough of dealing with my father and brother's death, let alone her recovery from alcoholism, and I was just adding to the problem. And so I would cut. I hated it, but if I wasn't cutting, I was thinking of suicide. All because of her. I had hoped she never found out about my self injury, and when she did, we never spoke of it, because I was afraid she'd think I was doing it for attention., but she promised that she would never and that as a person dealing with depression, she understood and yet here she was, calling me out on it.

**"You have the nerve to call me out on my cutting? You of all people? Well guess what mum,"**I spoke as my eyes turned red and I was now sobbing,**"at times, you were the reason I cut. You and dad, and my stupid depression. This goddamn burden I was born with not only affects me, but you guys too, and so I'd feel this self hate towards myself becau****se ****I couldn't do anything about it and I felt all this hate upon myself, but yet, when I cut, I never even once felt sorry for myself like you do. You use your problems as a reason to smoke not knowing it affects me too. I'm not saying my problems are worse and yours are irrelevant,** **but you just feel sorry for yourself and want me to pity, that you even call me out on my past self injury? No, just..no. I didn't even tell you about it because I wanted attention or pity-it being the last thing I want-, I just wanted help. But you still left me and instead of helping me with my depression, you smoked and drank and fucking made our lives a mess. And yours included..."** I finished sobbing and red in the face as my mother begun to hysterically cry and scream at me.I thought she'd remain calm, but I saw the fire in her eyes. She was broken.

**"Well what do you want from me!? You think I like being such an awful mother?! You think i want to be so weak that I rely on smoking to help me?! I don't,Gwen! Just like I know you don't want to have to deal with your disorder and depression.  
You think you have it bad? Try experiencin**g **ALL ****that you've mentioned 'simply because you hate yourself for being an awful mother' to your 'bipolar and depressed daughter' and you had to carry around another human being in your body for 9 months only to see it get beaten by it's very own father and cut them self and attempt to take their own fucking** **life, only to be murdered by their friends, How much do you think I HURT Gwen? How fucking much?" **By now I felt like complete shit for judging my mother as I realized that she was probably in more pain than I was.

**"I fucking tried to get my life back on track after high-school and go to college and get my degree and get married and have kids and live happy ever after, but guess what honey? LIFE _IS NOT FUCKING FAIR!_ You might want a good life, but you just have to take whatever life throws to you and deal with it. Be it through cutting, drinking or smoking, just deal with it. That's why I smoke okay? So that instead of whining about how crap my life is and complaining, I fucking deal with it. Just like you need to Gwen.  
Life is a bitch and always will be. For some not that much, but if you happen to be in what you consider the worst case, either change it or fucking deal with it. For your case I'd advise you to just wait for death..."**she finally finished off with a heavy breath as she re-lit another cigarette,placed it in-between her lips and walked up to her room, leaving me with what she had said, which was right.  
_Life isn't fair__._ And so I was left with that thought flooding my mind and tears flooding my eyes as I sat back down at our dining table and buried my face in my hands feeling completely broken much like my mother.

A while later I went up for a shower to freshen up my mind though it was now filled with completely pessimistic thoughts spat from the mouth of my mother who was now probably asleep.  
It was 1:27am and I stepped out of my clothes into the hot steamy water and attempted to clean myself.  
Having finished off, I got dressed in a grey baby-doll fit tee and some sweatpants and made my way for the fridge.

I had the whole night out. Not like all the other 17 year olds, but much like my own. I was to eat my feelings deep within some left over cookies and cream ice cream, listen to music and maybe watch TV, and then go call Mal to cheer me up and go to bed.

I pulled out my phone and begun blaring _Happiness by Three Days Grace_ as I walked over to the fridge, grabbing th cold container of heavenly goodness out of the freezer and reaching for a spoon from the dish rack soon I walked back over to dining table and treating myself to coldness against my teeth as sadness filled my mind.  
I sat there as Adam Gontier's heavenly voice filled my ears and I felt myself begin to break. My vision got blurry and I felt myself weaken and begin to sob heavily.

I hated myself right now. I was in a state of questioning my existence because I realized I was a shitbag for selfishly ignoring my mother's problems and merely focusing on my own.  
I felt like I had hurt her even more now, which was really what I tried to avoid. Hurting her like life did. But now I was no better than depression and the universe itself. I had become what I hated, and this triggered my mind to go upstairs into the bathroom and inflict pain on myself, but then I realized that would be dumb.  
Why hurt yourself physically when the emotional and psychological pain is enough? (shit, I sound so emo now).  
What I feel is the equivalent to driving a knife through my chest, so why pity myself and harm myself..It's pointless really.  
All of my mum said, people like me should just wait for death, because _life isn't fair._

I groggily got up ready to shuffle my way back into bed and hope to die in my sleep as I sealed the now almost empty in of ice cream and got up to place it back in the cold freezer as I left my phone on the table.  
I wasn't going to call Mal. Why spread my depressing and pessimistic thoughts to him?  
Although I knew Mal wasn't as weak as me enough to "catch" depression fro me, I still felt myself neglect the urge to call him as I dried the tears in my eyes but still continued crying as I reached for my phone on the table but my eyes met another object in place. My mum's pack of smokes.  
She probably left them here when she went to her room after our little argument.

I was tempted to pick them up but yet tempted to leave them there, and yet I ignored that second voice telling me to go straight to my room,. I was beaten down an broken that now anything destructive that would at least make me feel again seemed heavenly.  
I slowly placed my fingers on the packaging and fiddled with one between my fingers as I walked out the kitchen, leaving my phone on the table and picking up a matchbox instead. I made my way to the front door and walked out into the cold weather, feeling my adrenaline pump and finally have me knowing I was alive.  
Hesitantly I felt my jaded self, walk to the corner of the house and boldly light the cylinder as I questioned myself.  
I didn't want to smoke, and become like my mother, but she was right. "Either change it or deal with it"and right now, I was most numb that I just needed to feel alive, _once more_.  
I slowly placed the cigarette to my lips as i inhaled it into my lungs causing me to cough at first but feel myself elate.

_Who knew something so dangerous could make you feel alive again..._

**_TAAAADDDDAAAAA! *Fireworks bitch*  
So I hope this chapter was enjoyable, I really enjoyed writing it and it helped me get some things off my chest so enjoy and tell me what you thought. I thought it was actually the best I've written and I'm really proud of it because I just thought you guys deserve a good nice ling chapter, so her.  
I also just want to thank all you readers/ followers/favorite-rs/ reviewers for supporting me with this story. It means a lot, so if you could maybe tell your friends about it and spread the word that would be an awesome early Christmas gift and I would love you guys forever (still will even though you don't because you're fucking awesome).  
Special thanks to TheGypsyBelle, she is frickin kickin, and I love her always, check 'er out on here and she even has a youtube :)  
_**

**_SO leave a review telling me what you thought. Sorry no Mal POV, just felt that only Gwen's would be good, but maybe next chapter will have his, no promises though._**

**_Have a good weekend/week guys, and hope you all stay happy! ^_^.  
Also, I have my final exams, this week ON MONDAY AND TUESDAY AND I'M KINDA ANXIOUS so please wish me luck and keep me in your prayers.  
I'll also be on break for 4 months so you know what that means...MORE UPDATES HOPEFULLY BECAUSE I"LL FINALLY HAVE A JOB TO PAY FOR INTERNET BECAUSE MY PARENTS REFUSE TO GIVE ME MONEY!  
So yeah,...  
_**

**_Thanks guys, I truly love you all..  
Li._**


	11. I missed youand I hate it

**Gwen's POV:  
**_Blues, grays and purples of sorts. I'm in bliss._  
My lungs were on fire and my fingers turned a dull grayish purplish as the winter approached, and they rain fell heavily, causing my frail and pasty white body to shudder and vigorously suck what was left of nicotine and tobacco out of what seemed to be my fourth cigarette.  
I ruffled my faded teal hair and adjusted my sweater on my hands before lighting up another cylinder. Few cars seemed to be passing on our nearly empty street covered in leaves and rain drops seeing as it was the middle of the night and hear I was smoking. _For the first time_. An it felt good.

I wanted to break down and cry. I wanted to let myself fall apart and just spill raw- but I couldn't. My veins were flowing full of adrenaline and for once, the depression was actually masked by how good the pain of smoking felt.  
I could just let loose and literally breathe, and nothing would phase me except the dull grey smoke escaping my chapped lips.

The winds blew stronger and soon rain begun to pour which made the temperature drop. I was cold on the outside, but the heat from my light was burning inside me. That and my lust for smoking I had realized I had been missing my entire life. I mean, yeah, people offered me smokes earlier on but I always said no. I just thought it would be weird, you know? Inhaling smoke on purpose? And _not _getting sick? I call _bullshit._I had been outside for about an hour now and so I was worried my mother was going to wake up and find me with her treasuries on our pergola, so I decided to take a little walk in our neighborhood.I thought this would be the perfect time to take a little stroll. Rain, pack of smokes and no annoying children running around and nearly getting run over? Sign me up. Besides, my mum was used to this happening and even if she did wake up -though I doubt she would seeing as she probably had four packs before bed- she wouldn't mind.  
I quickly rushed up to my bedroom trying not to make too much noise for mother to wake up as I grabbed a dark navy sweatshirt with band logos on it (me and Bridgette made it for warped two years back) and my sneakers. I rushed out the door and into our kitchen grabbing my phone from the table and then heading for the front door.

Flipping on my hoodie, I lit up another cigarette and plugged in my earphones only to blast some bat for lashes as I clumsily leaped my slender legs over our picket fence and made my way onto the sidewalk.  
I passed a few familiar houses- some I remembered from my childhood and some I knew from the inhabitants- fiddling with the tool between my lips and trying to find my way to the music store Mal took me.I was surprised really. Me to be this bold and brave to show my face with a cigar hanging out of it in public? Huh...takes some balls. If my dad saw me like this, it would be back to therapy for me, and I was kinda doing well on the whole ignoring psychiatric ward-thing...at least I think I was, though honestly, I couldn't tell how insane I looked from others' point of view. i mean, what do you get from a girl my age with teal streaks and all black clothes?

I could faintly see what was ahead of me from the rain drops falling violently, but I could make out that it was closed. No lights or anything, so everyone was probably gone. Though I'm not surprised, only because it was now approaching 5:00am and I was still wandering around seeming mindless and idle yet my head was just boiling with query. Kinda like when you roast a potato and it looks crispy and toasted on the outside, but inside it's not even half done. Yeah...my head was a fucking potato.  
My head was really just filled with the thought of wandering all the way down the road and onto Louver's Lake, or going back home, packing and leaving my mum- but the latter seemed to heartless. If I left, my mum would probably kill herself, and even though she was a complete junkie, I was no better and so in no position to just abandon her like that. And so I chose to continue to the lake instead, hoping I wouldn't pass out because my potato head was already beginning to spin and rock as my worn out shoes shuffled on concrete.

**Mal's**** POV:****  
**I woke up feeling ever so crappy as a rose as my chest was on fire from last nights palpitations. I couldn't sleep and had a 40 degree fever, so today, I was to be at school for only half day- which I was very glad about because afterward Gwen and I were supposed to go to the music store, where I would then offer her my help.  
I got up off my bed -leaving it messy as always- and walked over to the greyish ivory-tiled bathroom.  
Quickly, I splashed my face with water, brushed my teeth and then went to get dressed in my usual outfit- a teal t shirt and jeans.

Having washed up, I briefly got my back pack and headed out the door in attempt to make it out of the house without Mikes' parents noticing me. Not that I hated them, but I was just in no mood for social contact. I slyly rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen for a short while to get an apple which was supposed to be my breakfast before _mother,_ stood before me out of nowhere causing me to groan and glare at her.

"Where do you think you're going?" she cocked an eyebrow with a smirk, folding her arms over her chest.

"The knock-off edition of hell- school," I scoffed, tossing my bag on the floor and biting into the red fruit which was surprisingly soft.

"Going to see your friend Gwen, aren't you?" she lightly chuckled heading to the sink and turning it on and starting on the dishes.

I quickly packed the half-eaten apple into my dirty backpack preparing to leave. I got up and jogged to the door.  
"What do you think?" I called out as I stepped out the door.  
My arms jittered as I coldly-much like the weather- glared at my neighbors' houses painted in plain reds, whites and even some light greens. It was kind of your typical cartoon scene neighborhood except it wasn't all Jim and dandy because they had me on the block. The angsty malevolently genius who somewhat managed to posses the body of a scrawny mentally challenged buffoon. So obviously these people were greatly blessed to be _my _neighbors, because I was exactly what this neighborhood needed- treasure.

School was to start in about an hour and a half and as I walked through the park which blossomed with orange-leafed autumn trees, I decided to sit down for a while just because I didn't really feel like getting into that building where peons roamed before I was even required to.  
I tossed my ragged bag on the leaf-covered ground and hopped onto a concrete bench nearby. I reached into my backpack and got out one of my favorite books- the sweetness at the bottom of the pie. Yes, I know, I look like some unintelligent brute who can't read for shit, but surprisingly, my mind can retain knowledge at an average- if not, above- teenager level (probably above average).

I flipped through pages of the worn out book noticing how long I had owned it due to its poor stage. The pages had turned a brownish color similar to that of the leaves around me and their tips curled like dog ears. The cover had also faded from a vibrant green to a duller version of the color. I'd bought this book when we were about 12 and to this day it was one of my favorites. Well written, very detailed and quite the time killer. I picked it up thinking it would be a brain killer and would numb my mind from boredom, but even though I had read it more than thrice, every time seemed just as new and refreshing. Yes I knew that from first glance, someone would just expect me to read dark and gloomy poetry and cry in a corner with my fringe covering my eyes, but that wasn't exactly how I would describe myself.  
But despite what others would say from first glance- and the odd looks I got from passers by- I sat in peace and read my book filled with content for about forty minutes until a crowd of teens flooded the nearby streets alerting me that it was time to go to that hell-hole. I quickly shoved the book in my bag and begun my walk on 'a different route from everyone else because I simply hated these people'.

The bell sounded from all the way inside the dull mustard colored building we were approaching. The trees around it had already lost almost all its leaves and the sign had mold brewing in its corners, displaying exactly, if not less, what highschool was like. I was around twenty minutes late because of my hate of socializing in mornings and now had to endure one of Mr. Mcchlaen's annoying rambles about how I spent too much time styling my hair in the mornings which out of all things, happened to be the only thing that embarrassed me. Not because I was some self-conscious loser, but only because that hooligan managed to get the whole class to laugh at me from one snap of his slithery sassy tongue. Heck, I'd even preferred when that big ogre chef made fun of me because at least he did that to everyone, unlike _Chris_ who decided to pick on me most of the times. God help me I wont strangle him after graduation...  
Quickly but yet amazingly -as always- I managed to dash through the peeling halls by the gym class and into my first period which of course had to his lesson- _History._I briefly ruffled my mop of hair and put it up much like Mike's to avoid any sass about my it this morning. Keeping my gaze to the ground, I shuffled my feet into the room and towards my desk before I heard him clear his throat, and I could literally feel him staring daggers into my back. I didn't really bother saying good morning to him as it wasn't exactly one, but this didn't stop him from getting a kick out of my sour mood.

"Nice fringe, Mal. I can see today you did something new with it. Not the usual. But yet your crappy time management remains the same," he smirked smugly as the other students giggled in their seats. I would normally just give a snarky remark or death threat, but decided that today I would simply let his over-confidence boil out.

"Yeah,seems like everything is the same as always, except my hair of course. Must take a lot of time to notice these kinds of things, Chris" I smirked, taking my seat.  
"And you must reaallly enjoy looking at me to take not of all this," I continued as laughter lightly bubbled in the air causing him to boil with anger which he sadly couldn't let erupt. _poor him._

"Don't flatter yourself kid," he huffed as we all let the scene die out and the lesson commence much like the rest of the crappy and hectic school day, until it struck 1:00pm.  
Until then the day was filled with the same things as usual. Annoying teenagers, smelly lunch packs and pit stains in gym. Except on thing was missing. One thing that could actually make all the pit stains and foul smells bearable, and of course, today _she _wasn't here. I had tried calling her in between periods and ask where the F she was,but no answer.  
I wasn't exactly worried about Gwen or even scared that she might be hurt or anything. I was just curious as to why she skipped classes today. It wasn't like her, because she told me that any chance she'd got to be away from home, she'd take. So it wasn't like she was just feeling lazy or anything.  
But soon my thoughts of curiosity turned to action when the coach advised me to add on the weights and thus marked the day of another crappy school day. But luckily, each got closer to graduation.

It was still early in the afternoon and I was just at the corner of Gwen's house, hesitantly tapping my foot to the sound of Kurt Cobain's voice in my ears, as I waited for her. I had texted her a while back that I was coming to her house, but she decided to be bitchy and ignore at, as I was left in the same spot for nearly twenty minutes. My instinct was to run into the house and grab her by her fake-ass weave to lead her out, but if her mother was home, I'd have to take a calmer approach. So I _calmly_ walked over to her front door which seemed messy much like her bedroom. Her boots were carelessly sprawled all over the place and she had even flipped the mat with 'welcome' written on it over, revealing a not so nice...warding off message carved on the back.

_Classic Caruther._

I roughly placed my hand on the knob and let myself into the house where my gloomy and sick-expected friend was residing, ready to look for answers as to why she left me alone today. Not that I cared much for any hunk of meat on this planet - Gwen included- but she was something...different. She could at least put up with me and had the same interests as me, but that wasn't really why I needed her. Those were just by-the-ways. I mostly needed her as my experiment, at least at the beginning I did. But now that I stood in her warm house scented with oak, I felt myself acknowledge that I was letting _this hunk of meat _take a place in my stone heart. Which wasn't exactly what I needed or wanted at the moment. And so my rage boiled once more and with it came another painfully attack. The pain this time was not very intense and paralyzing, but still kept gnawing in my chest causing me discomfort. I was in no mood to go to the music store now, but still felt entitled to know why Gwen excused herself from school today, despite my petty obsession with this surprisingly beautiful girl causing me literal chest pains and near death.

I stiffly walked into the dark amber colored wide space known as a living room dining room and kitchen. It was simply separated in sections which you could clearly see were meant to divide the rooms , but still remaining with no doors. Merely a counter in the kitchen which it shared with the mid hallway leading to the staircase. The house itself was surprisingly way more beautiful than it was a few days back- probably because Gwen's mother had a lot of time to redecorate- but yet, it still had that gloomy abandoned feeling flowing through it. All this despite all the beauty and the very captivating canvas hung in their living room. It wasn't something I would stupidly waste my time awing at and questioning "what does it mean?", but it definitely was gorgeous. Gwen had spoken to me about it and how her mother painted it and all the other stupid mindless trash I stupidly listened to, so I was quite familiar with it.

I tried to listen for Gwen's voice screeching at her mother and waling, but to my surprise, only muffled guitar riffs and light drumming could be heard coming from upstairs. She was probably in her bedroom.  
I climbed the stairs with curiosity and made my way towards the door before stopping half way-

"Is that tobacco?" I thought out loud, sniffing the air in surprise.I tried to ignore it and made nothing out of it as the smell was very light and could be from the neighbors. Continuing to the door, I pushed it open and revealed my teal-headed friend passed out on her bed as a very loud and aggressive song came on from her iPod which was on her desk.

"Well, you don't look too good," I joked with a smirk as I approached Gwen's bed which was covered in blankets and pillows.

"Thanks Mal. That's just what I needed to hear right now," she replied grumpily as she sat up and rubbed her sore-looking head.

"How've you been?" I asked as I cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead lightly, in a jokingly friendly way, ignoring my very recent angry and kill-thirsty mood.

"Been better, that's for sure," she smiled as she gestured for me to throw her a pillow and I did. She quickly fluffed it and put it up against her headboard to lie on.

**Here you guys go! An update! I must admit, I loved this chapter so much and am very proud of it so I hoped you guys enjoyed.  
Please feel free to review, favorite, follow and all that.  
Hope you guys have a good week..  
**

**Also, I'm in 4 month vacc for now, and I already have the following chapters summarised and all so, don't be surprised if you get an early update...butt no promises. :)**

**Love you guys,  
Li**


	12. I hate everything about you

**Mal's POV:  
**I didn't really have much to say, and instead of beginning the conversation, I kind of just sat there with my jacket sleeves chafing to my skin. It was slightly awkward trying to divert my eyes from Gwen's exposed pale thighs. The blanket just slipped to the side and gave me a pretty nice view. Normally I would brush these kinds of thoughts off because I didn't really think any girl was worthy enough, but today, my human form took charge.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Gwen spoke up, covering her pasty white skin with a thick layer of blanket and pillows.

"Don't flatter yourself hun," I teased with a smirk, but she didn't really seem into it today. Her face was pale-paler than usual, her lips were chapped and her fingers seemed ice cold when they brushed against me earlier. Not to mention her hair was a mess. She looked like she really didn't care, which was surprising seeing as Gwen usually took good care of herself. And it was slightly worrying.

I knew her mother's state had majorly affected her. It had traumatized her to say the least, and after being a victim of childhood trauma, I felt a sympathy towards her I normally didn't. It wasn't one which caused me anger for it denied my malevolence, because this one was out of mutual experience. Not emotional bonding, and so my stone cold heart was still in place.  
I did have to try my best to not get too attached though. My emotional status with Gwen was currently confusing, and the only way was to carry out my project. But until then, I was stuck in a humid bubble of thought on that topic.

The dark grey walls of her bedroom which were almost being engulfed by band posters had peeling paint by the window. It technically was, the rainy season and so I'd expect the running water to cause the paint to peel, but this one looked like someone was clawing at it. Gwen got up to go to the bathroom leaving me in deep inspection of her window. I stood up and walked over . I was more interested in why the walls were scratched than them being scratched, but was thrown off as my foot accidentally knocked over a glass ash tray- **used **ash tray with buds and torn up lights hidden by a pile of clothes by Gwen's bed.

My thought trail was on a rampage now as I reached for the misty greyed glass for further inspection.  
It was holding about nine cigarettes and quite a lot ash with some torn up bits of paper and other grime.  
It was disrespectful to go through others' property and belongings, but now my mind was set on discovering more. Discovering what else the goth girl's room held- _And why it was hidden._

**Gwen's POV:  
**The bathroom walls color shot at my eyes with no mercy. It was a dull grey, but still managed to agitate me as I sat on the floor by the toilet with my head resting on my knees, in my most pathetic state.

I had been in the bathroom numerous times today. Mostly to vomit or wash my face after one light, but now, I was just floating in melancholy.  
My lungs hurt-as well as my fingers- as I fiddled my the loose strands of hair falling onto my face.

I hated myself so much.  
I was back to square one of my depression- Self destruction. It would've been wise to put away the cigarettes after the first smoke or two seeing as it caused me major discomfort, but I was stubborn. **I wanted to be stubborn, **stupidly. Even though stuborness would get me no-where, activeness wouldn't either. It would just give the pain chance to brew as I would try to fight it. And much like myself, my depression was stubborn.

I was soon to begin crying or shaking and sobbing as a strong force took over my body, causing me panic and insecurity, along with discomfort until ravaging through clothing and moving of furniture was heard from my bedroom and I was soon only consumed by panic. I quickly got onto my feet and burst into the other room in attempt to stop Mal from invading my privacy, but sadly, my attempt was in vain. Mal had moved the dresser by my bed and found my little stash, leaving his face in disgust and confusion. I panicked and quickly rushed over to hide my secrets once more, like I always did.  
And he just watched me in shock.

I ravaged my now shaky hands through my clothes and felt my body convulse as I heard Mal's voice yell in the back, but I only heard my tears and the sound of the glass tray on the floor. I finally found my packs under my hoodie as Mal had dropped them when I flung at him.

"So this is why you weren't at school today?" Mal asked calmer than I expected him to be, but I ignored him.  
His voice was firm and he showed he did not want to be ignored. He gripped my arm and turned me to face him with fire in his eyes.

"You spent days telling me how you hated your mother for what she did and who she had become. And here you are hiding the fact that you're like her,"he spat still holding me as tears poured from my eyes and his stung with rage.  
I could see Mal hated me at this point, but so did I. I didn't care anymore and at this point would allow him to spit these words at me. I deserved them. I had become exactly what I hated and no matter how I fought it, it would creep back.

I was cradled by my bed as Mal's voice tore through more. I was flat at this point and felt myself let go of emotion, leaving me dead in a sense.I lightly played with the corners of a nearby T shirt as my pills fell to the side.  
I was supposed to take them at 7:00 and it was 6:27 now. I weakly reached out my arm, but let it fall to the ground due to my weak state. Mal watched ]carefully observing me.  
I expected himl to help but he didn't even try. I was surprised that my only friend neglected me and this made me feel more aching as He stood there yelling at me about how pathetic I was until he gave up. He darkly glared at me before reaching for the pack in my hands.I was shaking fiercely now as I grasped the pack with my life, but I was too weak and could only use my voice to stop him.

"Don't, please" I begged as my voice cracked.

"Let go Gwen," he said with a sense of hurt in his voice. But I refused.

"No"

"You're really willing to go down that road?" he asked kneeling to eye level with me.  
I didn't say anything. I had already hurt him enough.

"It's my only way Mal," I spoke with monotone. But he was persistent. He continued to argue and I continued to express frustration with burst of anger.  
He'd yell an insult, and I'd try to defend myself, He'd break me down, and I would try to validate my actions of self destruction. It was a vicious cycle until finally Mal gave up and left.

"If you're not gonna change, don't call to apologize, and don't call to ask for help. Until you get better." he spoke reaching for his coat an walking to the door.

"You know what it's like, Mal. You know what it's like to feel dead and do anything to bring you back to life. That's how I feel. And I thought you of all people would understand." I spoke with tears streaming down my cheeks.

I didn't want Mal to leave. I wanted him to stay by my side. He seemed to be the only one who cared about me, and now my selfish acts caused him to leave. I could tell he was filled with anger from the way he spoke and narrowed his eyes during our argument, but mostly from how for one brief moment, I saw I had hurt him. His eyes saddened and his smug look faded, revealing what was left underneath from so many years of torture- a broken troubled boy.  
One who felt pure sadness. And I understood why he felt this way,- he let no one in. He built up walls to keep himself on his own, and when he finally let me in, I hurt him like this.  
Mal taught me to never become a monster, be it indirect or direct. And now he was right, I had become exactly that.  
But I wish I had said all this earlier as I saw him walk out the door .

"You're not dead, Gwen. You're in a fucking coma, so wake up. Oh, and don't forget your meds" he stated blankly before shutting the door and leaving.

I felt myself boil with emotions which I myself could not define as I was left to stew in my little pool of melancholy, now turned to frustration. I curled into a ball by my bed for a brief moment to think things through before noticing the blades and lights by my moved dresser. Mal hadn't taken all of them.  
With thoughts boiling hot, I needed relief but I didn't want it that way. I reached for my phone to text Duncan as I tried to get my mind off things, but was in vain.  
My thoughts were racing and the steel glistened so bright nearby that I gave into temptation.  
I tossed my phone onto my bed unknowingly, after glancing at the time (6:47) and with my poisons in hand, headed to the bathroom. Forgetting I had to take my pills soon.

**Mal's POV:  
**I was in a crummy mood while walking home in the dark sunlight of dusk from Gwen's place. At the moment, a lot was going through my head as I tried to recapture what I was feeling. I couldn't make it out, but I knew I was upset, and as I passed the almost empty park, I decided to stop for a thought binge.

I hastily sat down, fiddling with my thumbs as I tried to make out my feelings.I figured once I did, they would all disappear, and I'd be left calm and non worried. I grasped sadness, anger, indifference, surprise, shock and most prominent, **worry.**  
I was worrying about what was going on in Gwen's head for her to reach this state, and it was probably the root of everything else. I then realized why I felt this,- it all came down to my selfishness. Selfishness of her not taking care of herself for my purpose.  
I wanted her perfectly fit for my experiment, but she failed me, leaving me with no purpose.  
But this aside, I felt gnawing in my chest and my breath hitched in my throat. It was a painful gnawing, but I ignored it, as I tried to focus on my emotional state.

Why was I feeling like this? And why was I getting an attack?

It was one more intense than the others, but yet I could fight it as I tried to sort out my thoughts about Gwen, but the more I thought about her and our past conversation, the more it intensified.  
I was worried now, that it was her. That when I saw the cigarettes, no matter how much I wanted to think it upset me for selfish reasons, it was because I knew someone I..._cared about _was hurting like that. They were breaking and were in as much pain as I was in my current state, with my stammering breaths and palpitations.

Did I actually care about Gwen?  
Was I even capable of caring? Certainly not, seeing as I never even tried to exhibit this on Mike, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Gwen was beautiful, funny, stunning, but yet her demonic past and emotional state was like the black ribbon on the goody bag. It just sealed everything off in a devious way.

But I still denied it.

"I want no affection and I feel no affection towards her." is the lie I kept telling myself, but before this feeling blossomed into something more, like an actual LOVING RELATIONSHIP, I needed to tell Gwen about my services.  
It wopuld be much harder to hurt her when I was fully ..._in love _with her. (ugh, cringe).

I got up and walked a few feet as the pain in my heart reduced and the tensed up muscles relaxed themselves, but my mind was still misty. I was angry at Gwen for making me feel this way even though I needed to make a deal with her. She reduced me to human and made me feel this emotion on numerous occasion, but yet I did nothing.

And soon, hate was projected on both her and myself- for feeling this way.

The street lights lit up as the sky was dim and everyone was on their way home in the dark. My home was still far from me, but I had to stop by the pharmacy for some xanax. It closed at 8:00pm and so I briefly flipped on my phone seeing the time as 7:05. I had almost an hour left, until I remembered Gwen's medication, stopping in my tracks.  
Earlier on today, she ignored it. But if this continued past 7:00, her "episodes" would begin. And although it wasn't my job to remind her about her medication, I couldn't kill her if she did it to herself, and so I sent her a brief text, despite being annoyed.

_I need her alive for now._

**Ok, so I decided to redo this chapter because I felt the other one didn't do you guysjustice, so please forgive me and enjoy.  
Thanks for reading, review, follow and favorite.**

**Li**


	13. Flashbacks and dark thoughts

**Gwen's**** POV:****  
**My fingers rustled against the knob of my bathroom door and I fidgeted with the lock, trying to make sure no one could enter. My mum finished work at 6 but would probably be home by 9:00pm, leaving me with much time on my hands to destroy my lungs and much more- or so I intended.  
It was quite stupid of me to lock myself in my bathroom with steel sheets and a pack of cigarettes, but at this moment, I could only think of harming myself.  
I thought about introducing the razors to my skin first, and then following my childish activity with a round of smokes, but at the moment, I wasn't in the mood for being draped in blood and feeling physical pain. It would be really stupid -stupider if I may say- of me to go through with the cutting. I got up onto my wobbly legs and limped to the toilet, dropping the blades in and flushing them down the drain.  
It wasn't the first time I did this with my razors, more so the hundredth time. I'd always get the electric urge and shivers in my spine when I saw the glistening silver tucked behind my dresser, but repeatedly managed to avoid cutting.

_I saw it as a sign of weakness._

Instead, I'd destroy my lungs and fill them nicotine to the point of terminal illness- as one can only hope.

I sat down by the porcelain bowl and tried to gather my thoughts for a brief moment. I was slightly jittery ad half out of my mind while I toyed with the strings from my pajama pants trying my best to hold back tears spilling over.  
I was tired.

_So very tired._

Not from a lack of sleep or from an event which drained me, but from all going on in my life. From walking into the bathroom with razors in my hand repeatedly, in which the session ended with me dunking them in the toilet.  
I was tired of being weak.  
Of trying to stay alive, but living a weak life.  
Of always needing people to lift me when I fall.

**I was so tired.**

I had this tingly sensation in my arm that no matter how much i tried to ignore it, it demanded to be felt.  
It was like a buzzing at the surface of my skin. Like that itching you feel in the first layer of your nudged, and it _nudged,_ and I couldn't really stop it. It was just kinda there.  
It was one of those feelings you could only submerge if you either distracted yourself from it, or somehow ignored it. The latter was really the best option.

It just never goes away unless you sleep on it.  
So I did.

I guess you could say I was pretty bad at this, despite having been in this situation multiple times.

I sat perched in the corner of the dull bathroom, which I seemed really too familiar with. Majority of my wretched childhood was spent between these walls. Most of them consisted of me trying to block out the roars of my father's raspy voice coming from my parents' bedroom.  
They never really had a _healthy_ relationship.

They'd much rather spend the night arguing and breaking household items than sleeping. And as far as I remember, these arguments started round the time my mother begun smoking. Or at least at the point where it got excessive.

See, my family was always, _broken,_ in a sense, and never really fit in the category of happy cheery family. We weren't at each others' throats every night- more so ignoring the others' presence- but we really needed adjustments.

During the first years, you know, maybe 5-12, everything was fine. Family events, group photos, all that stuff. We never went as far as matching sweaters, but, you get the jist.

Things got rocky when Linc started Freshman year and the bullying kind of followed him around. We tried to change schools a lot to see if the learning environment would get any better, but things just stayed the same. A year into Freshmen year, Linc was diagnosed with chronic depression and high level social anxiety.  
It wasn't the kind which he was born with from chemicals in his brain, but he developed it growing up from the teasing and all. Same year, I was diagnosed with Bipolar low case. So I was a whole other case.

Mine sprouted from the chemicals, and the bipolar meant depression would tang along, and this affected us pretty drastically. Of course since it was low case, we had it under control. A little bit of xanax, a little bit of benzodiazepines and I was tamed when I began homeschooling. So was Linc, he was doing really great with therapy and all, which left my parents as the only culprits.

They'd argue more and more over the years, and when my mum begun smoking it intensified. She'd occasionally kicked out to go stay at a nearby guest house and return home the next day even more stoned

That and the late nights were the most debated topics in our household.  
Mum would come home at around 9:00- when Linc and I were already in bed- and go onto the patio for a few "sessions".  
Eventually 9:00 turned into 11:00, which turned into 1:30, which turned into 2:00, and led Linc and I to basically being motherless. This was until she was admitted in the fall of 2010.

The institute took her in for two months and tried to sober her up but her recovery was behind schedule. After many encounters of having to sedate her and make her take her pills, they finally let her out. They said she was too hectic.  
Two weeks in she'd befriended Tyra, a red haired busty lady who run the commissary and soon was my mum's new supplier. She'd bring her a pack every two weeks, which eventually got her suspended.

The doctors were quite frank with us when they told us that she most likely would have to extend her stay, which meant more therapy sessions. And with our father's low-paying salary, we couldn't afford it.  
A few days later the institute handed her back to us.

My mum was definitely better off after those four weeks spent in the institute but she was still dependant on the cigarettes. By the time she was out, it wasn't only cigarettes. She couldn't go through an entire day without swallowing a dose of xanax or venlafaxine. She felt that to function properly she had to pop those in every day. She was just used to it.  
Her stay at _All Saints Psychiatric Institute_ caused her short time depression from being away from us for so long. On her records, Dr. Andrews- her therapist- had listed that she was experiencing a withdrawal. It was something most newbies at the facility experienced once separated from their families, and it usually wore off.  
She explained to us that she would be off the meds after re-settling back home.

Of course she was wrong.

The cost of living in our family went way up with Linc's therapy bills, my pharmacy and medical requirements and my mother's recovery fund. We couldn't afford all at once and decided to cut our losses.  
My mother was on some sort of house arrest after she nearly OD'd a few weeks into recovery and couldn't leave the house. Dr. Andrews was stopping by twice a week now and my mother eventually stopped taking the pills. Instead she was advised to do more productive activities to occupy herself and keep her from punishing herself. There was a long list. Pilates, yoga, aerobics, meditation groups, all that. She took up art instead.

During both our recovery, we spent time together doing art and taking time to clear our heads.  
I was now on middle case medication and was to be scheduled with my own therapist in the following month and my mum was going back to All saints in a few weeks.

My therapist's name was Dr. Zander. He was pretty young -maybe around 24 or so-, and he was Linc's temporary doctor. He didn't really need one when he found himself a few friends and stayed on medication which kept his spirits up. His records were steady and at that rate he was going to be off the meds in 2 months to back to my therapist.

He was a good looking guy with dark brown hair and piercing hazel eyes, all accompanied by a little scruff. He usually wore waistcoats or turtle necks and had thick rimmed glasses, which made it harder for me to not feel attracted to him seeing as I was 13 or so. But I was more focused on getting better.  
I went through many courses of therapy and was prescribed new drugs to help me contain my drugs were many with countless names, that I couldn't even memorize, but they all had the effect of making me a mindless zombie. My level of bipolar wasn't yet clearly identified but still somewhere between low and middle, so medication was easily screwed up. The Bip. meds went as far as making me feel even more depressed, which is where anti-depressants came in, and really screwed with my head.  
After a few weeks of diagnosis I decided to stop taking the anti-depressants and continued with Dr. Z.

By early 2011, it was time for my mother to be rehabilitated at All Saints and she had about a month home before she was off. In this period of time she and my father begun to argue even more frequently, about her stay at the institute.  
My father obviously wished for her to leave and get treatment, but didn't know what it was like at the facility. No one really did unless you were there and had the state of mind as an inmate.

It was like hell.

I was never put in an institute, but Dr. Z had told me about them. He'd explained how in some facilities patients weren't even allowed to have body contact with each other and had to keep a 5 foot distance from one another and how they'd sedate the patients who refused to take their pills. Mentions of straight jackets were never brought up seeing as an institute was kind of different from a mental hospital, but they still both had that raw evil in them.

Of course people who would hear of institutes would automatically think "well, at least you're not in a hospital," but society doesn't understand what it's like being there.  
I was never put in one, although my doctors had recommended it, but I never went. And despite that, I knew what it was like.  
It was just like being home with depression, except this way, it's more in your face. You clearly see there's something wrong with you and are confined to have that condition define who you are. You become your depression in these institutes. Of course some are worse than others, but the effect on the patients is all the same. Once someone becomes their condition, it's kind of hard to live a normal life.

At times when I'd hear my mum describe the place, I'd not wonder why people don't always recover when they get out. I mean, imagine spending a month or so confined in a building with people all told who they are according to their condition and having to wear it like a tag for them to treat you? You get so used it, that when they treat you, you have no one else to be. And that's what scared me the most when I was threatened to be put in a facility, although sometimes, I wondered if it was needed.

About a month before my mom was to be taken to the institute, she had some activity in her records. She had been taking one pack every two weeks, which showed recovery, and from that, Dr. Andrews said she didn't need to go back.

But it was a different story with me.

After stopping to take the anti-depressants I became reliant on the Bip. meds. My bipolar had been clarified to be middle class and wasn't being handled well with just the meds and the therapy sessions. It needed more.  
The pills would help at times, but I experience insomnia and other characteristics I shouldn't have been experiencing if on diagnosis. Late 2011, I was recommended for a semester at all saints.

I was supposed to be admitted in fall of 2012, and in the remaining time I had at home, continued with Dr. Z who became almost my only friend since Linc begun going out with his friends.  
At the time I had never met them -and I still haven't- but he had spoken about them a few. One was a boy from a farm somewhere in the US,who's family had just moved to Ontario. His dad got a job offer her in the great North and they were staying for another 8 years. The other was a local from our school. I hadn't known much of him except that and that he had a brother. He and Linc met at therapy. He was diagnosed with M.P.D and long term depression so they got along.  
My parents seem supportive of the idea of Linc having friends, although I was a little sketchy seeing as we had never met them. But it kept the arguing down and he was happy, so I sat quietly.

In that time with almost a year remaining till my rehabilitation, I spent time mostly on my own and with Zander. He was kind of my only friend at the time, and seeing as he wasn't an old geezer like most doctors, we actually could hold a regular conversation. We mostly talked about movies and music and got along quite well. In our sessions he'd mostly tell me what to expect at the institute, and tried to brief me and I listened.

My mother would bring up her stay at the facility at times and talk about how it wasn't something to look forward to when she joined our sessions. But on the plus side, she said the inmates were nice. She didn't speak to all of them, but she remembered a few from her group.  
She mentioned one girl, Lizzie, who was sent there after a suicide attempt.( Usually these cases are sent to the local psychiatric hospitals but her father wanted less exposure).  
She was bout my age at the time and was an active self harmer, as she mentioned in circle group, as well as a frequent visitor at the institute after her parents divorced.  
My mother mentioned how her dress code was similar to mine and that we'd get along but I doubted then went on to the next one.

Barley was his name, and he was a schizophrenic admitted 6 months earlier. He was one of those people who had an unhealthy obsession with his job -lecturer at local college- and his disorder contributed to this highly I guess.  
He shared that he had a daughter and a wife, but after years of Diagnosis, Martha packed up and left with their child, leading him here.  
My mother explained her pity for him, and went on to talk about how I'd probably love being acquainted with him.

Next was a girl whose name my mother couldn't bother memorizing, but referred to as Raven due to her silky hair color. Description of her personality had a few aspects much like mine but not more than none really.  
She was chipper and happy, but was know for attempting suicide twice while admitted and had been staying there for four years. Her parents died when she was younger leaving her and her little sister with their aunt.

My mother mentioned a few more names but could only stick to those three's personalities since she spoke to them most.

May of 2012 I was already being registered for admission. Dr. Zander and my parents had agreed that he would be attending to my weekly therapy sessions at the institute since I was going for my first semester. My depression had taken a toll on me and I was to be reported in the summer, a few months earlier than hopped.  
At this point in my life, I had begun harming my body. It got to the point where everything hurt and I wanted to take my own life. With this mentioned to Dr. Z, my parents ushered me to All saints. I was going in for a one week trial run and then a month long semester of therapy and sedation and by my hopes, I prayed it would've all killed me by then end of it of course they could help, but I had lost all faith.  
Dr. Z and I continued our sessions and he convinced me to begin doing creative activities to keep creative. They gave me the same sheets as my mother, but instead I chose guitar lessons. Every other day after therapy my mother drove me down to Mrs. Gerta's and she'd teach me my E chords and F#'s.

Surprisingly this added activity on my records and I believed it would all get better at this point.  
Then one morning Linc's body was found dead in our kitchen.  
We called Dr. Zander and Dr. Andrews and reported that I wasn't coming, and so I was put back on my xanax and venlafaxine to help with the depression further into the sessions.  
My mother relapsed back into smoking and it was back to square one.

At the moment I found myself dozing off on the floor and decided it was time for bed. I freshened up and crawled into my pile of blankets and pillows ready to fall asleep seeing as the buzzing was gone.

As I lay in bed, I thought about the possibilities of what I might do with my addiction and depression.  
There was the possibility of getting help and actually going to all saints, but I was too weak for that. I didn't want to have to carry around a tag saying depressed.  
I then thought to the possibility of taking my own life.

I had always had the though wandering in my head, and at this point of my life, it seemed like the only escape.  
I questioned my own existence before, really. Had held a knife to my throat, had the pills in the bathroom, but was always too much of a coward.  
If I really killed myself there'd be no chances of things getting worse but also no chances of them getting better, which always left me to fizzle in my I was very tired.

I always sat on my bed like this letting my mind cover me with a blanket of dark thought until my eyes fell upon my clock. It was already past nine before it dawned on me that I hadn't taken my meds.

_No wonder I was so low._

I had a brief second of panic before realizing my pills were only a hand stretch away, tucked on my dresser. I quickly popped them in and downed the capsules with a nearby bottle of water before trying to gather my thoughts before bed.

**So, here you guys are. I'm sorry I've been really crappy with updates, I'm just losing the zeal for writing for this character unfortunately, but its getting better and I'm getting back into writing.**

**I hope you guys liked, this chappy, I know I enjoyed writing it except the ending, but I'll work on it. Also, PLEASE let me know how I can write out thoughts better. Like in my POVs, I don't know if I should keep everything in the characters head and have them narrate their feelings, or if I should keep them kind of as surface feelings (if that makes any sense) and I just wanted some pointers from you guys. Pllllleeeeeeeeaaasseeee help me out, so I can improve the story because when I begin writing POVs properly, then I can update faster out of a few tips would be nice :3**

**So, review,favorite,follow and stuff.**

**Also, THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR GETTING THIS STORY PAST 3K! LIKE WTF?! How did this happen? I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH, and I just want to say THANK YOU!**

**Sorry, its 3:00am where I am and I'm kinda exhausted.  
Love you guys,  
Li.**


	14. The aftermath

It was Wednesday morning when I woke up with a mild headache from the previous night's events. I rubbed my eyes open still slightly asleep in attempt to get out of bed and begin the day. Today the art committee were going to hand in all due pieces before graduation so that we could get our final total to add to our report cards, which for those of us participating, meant we had to be at school an hour earlier.  
The teachers usually dealt with us in groups of six where everyone had a partner who they did a project with and then a wholesome group piece, and seeing as there were 4 groups we needed an hour earlier for schedule if we were to all get our work graded.

It was a hassle, but then again, which bit of school was really a walk over?

I wormed my way out of the mess of blankets and pillows I was cocooned in and shivered when my feet met the cold wood of the floor on our way to my wardrobe. Winter was coming which made my surroundings' temperatures drop from their regular to an ice block level and caused my fingers to shake this early in the day as they reached the freezing handle of my wardrobe door. The thermostat was out of order due to my mum's low salary and inability to pay the bills which left us freezing everyday of winter each year, but this year, I was prepared. Earlier in the fall I had gone shopping with my mum to buy some clothes other than fishnets and fingerless gloves (which I obviously couldn't wear this winter) and managed to snag me some nice beanies, scarves, and mittens.

I gathered a cluster of clothing consisting of a Navy blue trench coat, a black and red plaid shirt, some black jeans, a black tank top and a checkered black and white scarf along with my usual combat boots, a pair of socks and a beanie.  
After I picked out my outfit, it was dumped on the chair by my desk in exchange for my old but clean ivory towel on my way to the bathroom.

I stripped out of my pajamas, turned the water on and stepped under the shower head. The trickles of water ran down my body leaving a light tickle sensation where they flowed before the fell into the drain. I reached for the peach shampoo my mum bought in mass supply and squeezed out a blob of thick gel which I then rubbed into my scalp. I rinsed out my teal streaked hair and finished off my shower.

The water stopped dripping from the shower head as I turned the silver colored knobs in the wall and stepped out the shower, wrapping myself in my towel. IT smelled of lavender body wash mixed with peach shampoo as it met my pale and icy skin and I tip toed my way back into my bedroom.

I substituted the towel with a bra and my tank-top as I slipped on the rest of my clothing. I finished buckling my boots and flipped on the plaid shirt and then the coat, leaving both unbuttoned and scrunching my hair up with the towel.  
It was still slightly wet, so I merely put it up in a messy bun for now, and tossed the beanie back in my back pack along with the scarf- which I didn't need at the moment.

After getting dressed, I packed my bag full of essentials and headed downstairs for breakfast.

It was approaching 7:00am when I found my mother seated at the table having her morning light with a side of black coffee. She was too busy going through the bills and hers and dad's divorce papers to see me walk into the kitchen and jumped lightly when she finally unglued her eyes away from the calculator on the table.

"You really should knock," she breathed, taking off her reading glasses and dragging a hand across her face. It was early, but that didn't stop my mum from being jittery from all the nicotine in her veins.

"It's a public room," I replied walking over to the table.  
"And you should just be more keen," I continued while clearing a small section of the paper covered table for me to have my meal. I finally succeeded and managed to have a tray sized space in front of me as I went to get my leftover turkey sandwich for a quick snack.

"I'm a bit busy, as you can see," my mother retorted with a tiresome look.

"All I can see is the lines drawn under your eyes," I spoke in response as I headed back to my seat at the table and begun to eat.

"Is that so?," she sighed, putting her glasses back on.

"Did you get any sleep last night?_,_" I pressed, hoping she would give in, but she continued punching in numbers on the calculator.

"About an hour or so," she replied.

"That can't be counted as rest and you know it," I continued, taking a bite out of the paper like bread with a thin slice of turkey pressed in it.

"What I know, is that your graduation is coming up and if I don't pay the bills in time, I'll be to focused in paying my debts instead of planning for your party," she sadly smiled causing the lines by her eyes to crinkle.

My parents planned on throwing me a graduation party when I finished high-school as a way to wish me off to college, much like most parents did for their kids. They did everything, drinks, food, weed. The whole shebang, only my mum couldn't afford it like the other parents could once my father left. He was the leading income in the house and when he was kicked out, mum and I were left with eating store-bought prepared dinner. We weren't the worst off, but life wasn't exactly being hospitable.

"You don't have to throw me a party, mum," I argued meaning every word I said.

"I want to," she smiled at me, finally looking up from her papers to give me another sad smile.

"I'm fine with staying in and watching Netflix with Bridgette all night. You can just order us a pizza each and we'll be more than well off," I spoke, returning the expression. But of course this had no effect on my mother as she continued filling up documents plastered on the deep mahogany table.

I mimicked my mother's behavior and sat quietly at the table finishing off my cardboard wheat and getting up to leave.

I fastened the buckles on my boots, adjusted the collar of my coat and was out the door into the frosty air biting at my cheeks. I walked the curb by my house hoping to board the bus when I found Duncan standing at the bus-stop with his smug look despite the harsh weather. His fading green Mohawk was blowing in the wind much like the maple leaves clustered on the side walk, and he was wearing a plaid shirt almost identical to mine over his skull T-shirt. He wasn't really dressed for the weather, but his signature leather jacket hung on his shoulders loosely as he held a pasty white stick between his teeth.  
I walked over to him preparing to beat him to his usually flirty or sarcastic greeting when the pasty stick was made out to be a cigarette.

"You look like hell," Duncan commented before engulfing me in a bear hug.

"Haha , yeah ,I was toasting up in there too last night," I flatly laughed , glancing at the poison stick between his chapped lips, to which Duncan gave a concerned look.

"Care to elaborate?" he asked through narrowed eyes.

"Certainly, where do I begin?" I replied.

"How about, we first assess how you've been eyeing my light like it's a knife?" He asked, taking the cigarette between his fingers.

"Well, they have the same effect," I rolled my eyes as I closed my eyes, recalling the previous night's events...

**Mal's POV:  
**By now the sun had risen and was burning deep into my retinas as I rolled onto my side to shun its rays. It was Wednesday and today I was supposed to go see my Doctor- Dr. Deena- who would prescribe for me a new medication to induce the pain of my condition.

_7:47am_

My alarm clock read as my groggy eyes met the beaming red numbers in dull black. Mike's father usually left round 8:00am, but his mother was the one to accompany me to the hospital. She was usually the one who was assigned the work involving me which, surprisingly, she took well. She never said anything in debate when her husband told her to take me to therapy or for soccer practice, and over the years became quite tolerant of it all.

_Tolerant, not appreciative._

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and sat up in my bed, ruffling my mop of hair on my head, and grabbed my phone to check for messages.  
Gwen and I hadn't spoken since the incident two days ago and she hadn't replied my messages- to my discontent. I was worried that she might have been pissed at me, but knowing my friend, she would cool off faster than breathe in winter air.  
I scrolled through my phone hoping for a response, but was met by failure. Gwen hadn't replied, leaving me the only option of going over to her house to apologize.

It didn't feel right leaving things the way they were and I felt obligated to put us back on solid ground. I would wait for gothy to come to her senses, but she had her head way up her rear, leaving me as our only hope.

I slipped my feet onto the cold wood of the floor and made for the bathroom, leaving my phone on my bedside table.  
I took a cold shower, brushed my teeth and styled my hair (not that that was much of an effort) before getting into a misfits T-shirt and my black skinnies. I strapped up my boots and flipped on my jacket before I was out the door with everything I needed.

Amber's voice was soft in a distance as the rubber souls of my boots clunked against the wooden stairs. She and Robby were talking about how they wanted to rent out the house when I graduated so we could move back to Ohio with my dad. I wasn't exactly sold on the idea, but I was already planning ahead so I had nothing to worry about.  
I had spoken to Duncan about apartments near the art school I was hoping to attend seeing as he had one there and he pointed out how his land lord - Kenny - would be able to squeeze me all went swell, by January I'd have my own place. Duncan had already arranged with his uncle Lucas that I'd work half shifts at his tattoo parlor to earn a living and get enough money for the rent.

"Well, take him then," Robby's raspy voice spoke as I walked into the dining He and Amber were seated having breakfast, and by the time I had arrived, I would've guessed it was already passing onto his colon.

"Take me where?"I cleared my throat as they acknowledged my presence.

"The hospital. And then to see if you wanted to buy some things for your new apartment," Amber smiled gingerly.  
They were both over-joyed that I was leaving as much as was, but took it a little overboard. I hadn't even yet graduated and ol' Rob began telling me where I could get killer table mats for half price.

"No thanks. You can just drop me off at Keener's and I'll go round the curb,." I replied shuffling my feet past the deep brown mahogany table they were sat at.  
Keener was a friend of Duncan's who I needed to see about job employment.

"You sure you can walk to Dr. Deena's?" she asked with uncertainty.

"Sure as ever," I huffed heading out the door to wait for Amber to come outside.

**HAPPY NEW YEAR (almost, unless you're austrailian, then currently HAPPY NEW YEAR)**

**Sooooo, here's your guys' update. I know I'm super late and I'm sorry, I really am, I feel like a crappy writer for doing this to my glorious readers but I hope I made you smile with this piece. Expect more frequent updates in the new year, as my resolution and hopefully really good writing.**

**I wanted to give you guys this before the new year and I hope you enjoyed reading.**

**Review, follow, favorite, and enjoy the new year.  
**

**Li, xo...**


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